Holland America Rotterdam 9-Day Southern Caribbean Cruise Review – Day 6: December 3, 2025

Day six on the Rotterdam kicked off our second full day in Aruba, with an all aboard time of 4:30 pm and plenty of sunshine to finally make up for the soggy mess we dealt with the past few days. Today we were joined in Oranjestad by two new neighbors – Carnival Vista (which I’ve sailed before and reviewed, click here if you want that saga) and P&O’s Britannia with her full-on Union Jack paint job. With three ships in port again, downtown Aruba was packed… shoppers buying stuff they’re probably just going to throw out when they get home, people grabbing (liquid) lunch at the waterfront bars and restaurants or one of the many party buses, and every taxi driver on the island converging on the port at the same time.

Yesterday, I talked about all the “must-do” beach spots and excursions, plus what you can get up to if you’d rather just wander the downtown area. Today, though, I want to address something that always pops up whenever Aruba comes up, especially for first-timers.

Yep… Natalee Holloway.

Even nearly two decades later, her name still gets mentioned anytime someone talks about Aruba. It was one of those cases that exploded into the media and for a lot of Americans, it’s the only talking point they have for Aruba, which is why I always get the same question:

“Should I be worried about my safety in Aruba?”

But before we get to that answer, time for a flashback.

The year was 2005, Natalee Holloway was an 18-year-old high school graduate celebrating her senior trip in Aruba. She went out one night in the Palm Beach area with classmates, met a local young man named Joran van der Sloot, left a bar with him and two of his friends… and was never seen again. Despite searches, interrogations, arrests, and re-arrests, Natalee was never found. For years, van der Sloot gave conflicting stories, false leads, and so-called “confessions” that went nowhere. It wasn’t until 2023, in a U.S. court, that he finally admitted to killing her, though her remains have still never been located.

So back to the question: Should I be worried about my safety in Aruba?

Here’s the honest truth: No — not in the context cruise passengers experience Aruba.

Aruba today is one of the safest islands in the Caribbean, especially in the areas you’ll actually be in: downtown Oranjestad, the Eagle and Palm Beach areas where all the nightlife, bars, restaurants, and resorts are. These areas are well-lit, always are full of people, are patrolled, and built around tourism. Crime can happen anywhere, even at Disney World, but Aruba’s tourist zones are generally low-risk, clean, and extremely easy to navigate, even at night.

On my own overnight stay here, I wandered around after dark, walked the side streets, and never once felt uncomfortable… unless we’re counting the moment a woman dropped trou and took a dump in the parking lot of the restaurant I just had dinner at. But that’s a whole different type of safety concern.

So if you’re visiting Aruba for the day, or doing the rare overnight like we’re lucky enough to have on this cruise, relax, explore, enjoy the beaches, hit the bars, grab dinner ashore, and don’t let an old headline shape your plans.

What are those things?

Okay, since I’m not doing a full Aruba deep dive today, let’s talk about something you walk past on the pier, barely notice, yet your entire cruise depends on it not screwing up: those giant ropes holding the ship in place.

Seriously, they’re called mooring lines, and they play a massive role in keeping your floating hotel safe and secure while you’re busy exploring port.

Think of these lines as super-strength bungee cords. Their one job is to keep that massive ship from drifting away from the pier. You’re not looking at simple hemp rope here; these are super-thick, synthetic lines, often made from materials like polyester, nylon, or other high-strength fibers. They’re actually stronger than a steel cable of the same size, but way easier for the crew to handle.

They’re designed to take an insane amount of tension, but they have a little bit of stretch. That give is crucial! When the wind kicks up or a big swell rolls through, that tiny bit of elasticity absorbs the movement, like your stretchy waistband after dinner at the Lido Market. It keeps the line from snapping like a guitar string every time the ship shifts. Multiply that by a dozen or so lines on a big cruise ship, and that’s how they keep hundreds of thousands of tons glued to a concrete pier.

Of course, these ropes don’t magically jump from the ship to the dock. There’s a whole cool process that happens every time the ship pulls in.

It starts with a crew member on the bow or stern literally throwing a much smaller line down to the pier. This is called a heaving line. It has a weighted knot on the end (sometimes nicknamed a monkey fist) so it can actually fly some distance instead of just flopping into the water.

The dockworkers grab the heaving line.

They use it to pull across a slightly thicker line, called a messenger line.

Finally, they use the messenger line to pull across the huge, full-sized mooring line.

Once that big rope is on the pier, the dock crew drops the loop (the eye) over one of those massive steel posts you see sticking up from the concrete. Then, the ship’s crew uses powerful winches to tighten everything up and snug the ship exactly where the captain and pilot want it.

Those sturdy steel posts are called bollards. They are basically giant steel mushrooms embedded deep into reinforced concrete, built to withstand a ridiculous amount of pull without ripping out.

Which bollard gets used isn’t random either! The ship’s bridge team and the dock have a strict mooring plan. They factor in the ship’s length, where the gangway needs to line up, wind direction, current, and where the winches are located. Lines have to go out at specific angles – forward, aft, and diagonally – to hold the ship both to the pier and along it.

Since these lines are under an incredibly heavy load, yes, they can fail. They’re inspected constantly for wear, broken strands, and general age, and they have a specific service life before they are replaced.

When a line breaks, it’s not a gentle little pop. It can recoil violently and whip across the deck in what’s known as a snapback zone. That’s why you see those painted zones and why crew are drilled to stay well clear when lines are being tightened or are under strain. People have been seriously injured, even killed, by a snapping line, so this is definitely not taken lightly.

But don’t panic! If a mooring line breaks, nothing dramatic usually happens. They never rely on just one line; there are multiple running everywhere. If one snaps, the bridge gets notified immediately, the ship’s thrusters might be turned on for a little extra help keeping the ship tight against the dock, and the crew works on getting a replacement line secured right away.

If you’ve never seen this operation in action, next time you’re getting ready to dock, head outside and watch all the work that goes into securing the ship.  It’s quite fascinating to see.

Holland America Line & Rotterdam

Now that we’ve wrapped up that little detour into maritime nerdiness, let’s get back to the Rotterdam herself. Because here’s something a surprising number of people don’t realize — the ship we’re sailing on right now is not the first Holland America Line vessel to carry the name Rotterdam.

And if you look at the aft of the ship, look closely. You’ll see ROTTERDAM welded on the stern twice. The big one is obviously the ship’s name… but the smaller ROTTERDAM underneath? That’s the port of registry.

Every cruise ship has to be registered to a country, and for most major cruise lines, that country is… not the United States. You’ll see Panama, Nassau, Malta, the Marshall Islands – basically anywhere but the United States. Why? A couple of reasons:

• Labor laws: Foreign-flagged vessels don’t have to follow U.S. labor requirements, which allows cruise lines to hire international crews without the red tape of U.S. employment law and the much higher wages that come along with U.S. labor.
• Taxes: Registering overseas means cruise lines aren’t hit with U.S. corporate tax.
• Operational flexibility: Things like gambling, onboard shops, and certain staffing arrangements are easier under international maritime regulations than U.S. ones.  Ain’t that a shocker?

Now, about Rotterdam.

Holland America Line has been around since 1873, so they’ve had plenty of time to recycle ship names, including Rotterdam:

• Rotterdam I (1872) – A steamship built not long after HAL was founded. She did the transatlantic route between Europe and New York. This Rotterdam pretty much kicked off HAL’s reputation for reliable transatlantic travel.
• Rotterdam II (1878) – A bigger, upgraded ship that unfortunately wrecked off the Dutch coast in 1883.
• Rotterdam III (1897) – This version served until the 1900s and was part of the beginning of the golden era of ocean travel before the whole Titanic thing happened.
• Rotterdam IV (1908) – This new ship carried passengers through the early 20th century, survived war, and had her fair share of crossings.
• Rotterdam V (1959) — This is the Rotterdam most remember due to her looks and mid-century design.  She was known for both her crossings and her “cruises” as cruise “vacations” started gaining popularity.  Today she’s a permanently docked hotel and museum ship in… you guessed it… Rotterdam… much like the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA and the QEII in Dubai.
• Rotterdam VI (1997) – It took a bit for the next Rotterdam to be named, but this was the first time the name was used on a much more modern ship.  This Rotterdam became a beloved HAL favorite for decades and left the fleet in 2020. Once the flagship of the line, she now sails as the Borealis for Fred. Olsen Cruise Lines.
• Rotterdam VII (2021) — This one!  The current flagship, and newest member of the Holland America Line fleet.

Dinner at Canaletto

Dinner tonight was another visit to the $25 per person plus 18% Italian spot onboard, Canaletto. Tonight though, I wasn’t just going for dinner. I was going on a mission. A very important one. A mission to determine whether the brand new veal scaloppine that replaced the beloved osso bucco was a worthy successor or a menu crime.

Now, if you’ve sailed Holland America before, you already know that HAL has one of the most loyal, passionate, and let’s just say it, opinionated fan bases in the cruise world. Some of these folks have been sailing with the line since the days of Rotterdam III. When you’ve been cruising since the Eisenhower administration, you don’t exactly welcome change with open arms. Any tweak, no matter how small, can rattle a few walkers and send the Cruise Critic forums straight into World War III.

Case in point. When HAL removed their classical musicians after the pandemic, you would have thought the company threw Beethoven overboard. The revolt was INTENSE. Eventually HAL brought the musicians back, because sometimes it’s just easier to give the people their Mozart than deal with a mutany.

So when word spread that Canaletto quietly removed osso bucco from the menu a few weeks ago, let’s just say some Facebook group posts got… tense. I’m honestly not sure which caused a bigger uproar. The removal of priests from some sailings or the disappearance of osso bucco. Both situations bring out the absolute worst in HAL cruisers.

The priests aren’t returning, but the osso bucco still has a fighting chance if the angry mariners keep up the fight.

Lido Market Dinner Menu

Main Dining Room Dinner Menu

Canaletto Dinner Menu

As always, dinner kicked off with warm bread, spreads, and a little entertainment from Jimmy, who has taken care of me every time I’ve eaten here over the past three weeks.

I started with the burrata salad because… Italian. Then came the moment of truth.

Out came three thinly pounded pieces of veal resting on a bed of spinach with a potato parm corn cake on the side. Ok, so how was it?

The verdict It wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t great. The veal was a little tough, the flavor was just sort of… OK, and nothing about it screamed “amazing.”

And let’s be very clear. It is absolutely, positively, not even in the same galaxy as the osso bucco. Look at this thing from just a few weeks ago when I was on Zuiderdam and one of the last lucky people to enjoy it before it vanished.

So sorry HAL. I’m siding with the faithful on this one. Bring back the osso bucco.

We will be spending the next two days at sea as we make our way to our final port of call, Half Moon Cay in The Bahamas, where we arrive Saturday morning, then it’s the end of this 21-day journey.  Stay tuned for what’s next, and more tomorrow when I’ll dive into Holland America’s casino program.

Thanks for following along!

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