amphire and shrimps, saltmarsh and sandy beaches. Well, yes, it could be Morecambe Bay but it is, in fact, on the other side of England and across the North Sea.

Zeeland, south of Rotterdam, is a huge area in the western Netherlands, lying below sea level and protected by dykes. Its tidal estuaries are governed by colossal adjustable barriers, known as delta works, installed after the disastrous floods of 1953.

I was first in the Netherlands in the early 1970s, as a companion for elderly grandparents who had got some cut-price tickets through a relation who worked for a soon-to-be-bust travel company. We flew from Leeds (my first air flight) for a coach tour of the bulb fields and so forth. I remember eating a whole marinated herring by hanging it down my throat and extracting the backbone. Said to be a morning-after cure.

I recall some blooms, a seashore restaurant, two farmworkers from Barnard Castle who remarked on things of interest: "look, there's a cow... there's an aeroplane."

I returned a few years later on honeymoon, in a freezing November, to Amsterdam, huddled in a stylish but inappropriate Yves St Laurent jacket. Another travel agent friend had booked us into a hotel called the Alpha, a tower block which we found was so far from city centre that we may as well have been in another city.

Today, I know Holland (as it markets itself) as a pleasant, civilised country. I even have a few Dutch friends.

Last year, the relaxed lifestyle of northern Holland made a huge impression. A day trip to Texel island was wonderful. The push-biking, open air lifestyle looks really healthy. Faces glow. This time, further south, I was on a weekend organised by the national tourist office to promote Zeeland's culture, its food and its drink.

So the sounds of hot-head drivers screaming their engines and burning their tyres in a car park was not on the desired agenda, nor the idiot who almost whipped away the legs of our local guide when she was crossing the road.

Nor were the heaps of dog excrement in the charming fishing town of Zierikzsee. "They pay their taxes and think someone else can clear it up," explained the guide with displeasure evident in every word.

Then we went for a marvellous seafood lunch at the Brasserie Maritime, humming with conversation, cascading with the region's produce: shrimp, lobster, oysters and the amazingly luscious mussel croquettes. The port of Yerseke, nearby, is mussel-mad. It has the only dedicated mussel auction, a fishy museum, and, of course, dozens of places to eat them. Go there on the third Saturday in August for the annual, and very festive, Mussel Day. The dedicated Belgians also travel to Yerseke to eat the mussels, which are in season from July to October. The demand is so great that they import mussels from Ireland, demarcated as "European" on the shop counter. The imports are grown-on in the very salty water, which is said to give the mussels an edge over the opposition.

The Zeelanders take immense care with their mussels, sowing the baby "seed" mussels in each farmer's own section of sea. They mature in two years and are then sampled, analysed and graded before being auctioned. They then go to purification banks in the sea, prior to being fished out and dispatched, fresh as a daisy, or, hopefully, fresh as a Yerseke mussel, to the consumer. Left-over shells can be used in garden paths, or as a nursery bed for the oyster larvae.

The region has its own, distinct, round native oyster which is prone to disease, so it also produces the more familiar elongated oyster. Then there is the Zeeland lobster with unique DNA, claimed to be the best-tasting in the world. Well, they would say that. Given the choice, I'd take crab every time.

The oostershelde, or eastern sea, lobster has a very dark shell and is on sale from April to July. Females carry 50,000 eggs,
of which about 50 survive to adulthood. A 700g, or decently large, lobster, will be 10 years old.

As for the popular favourite, the brown shrimp, they have a long journey ahead of them between net and plate. In a day they are flown to and from Pakistan, where they are shelled by hand.

Once upon a time, they would have been shelled in situ, or later sent to eastern Europe but labour rates there are now too high. At this year's Holker Festival, I met the proprietor of Morecambe Bay Potted Shrimps, of Flookburgh. He recalled as a child after school being required by his parents to "pick" the shells off the shrimps.

Today, he has six expensive shelling machines. He sells the left-over shells to the continental soup trade. Just a thought next time you are having seafood bisque on the Costa Blanca or Côte d'Or.

The Dutch are renowned travellers into southern Europe. I first encountered my Dutch friends in the Loire Valley, where they have a house. Being Dutch they speak English and French and can get by in Italian and Spanish. This familiarity with languages among the Dutch is almost a necessity, because hardly anyone else on the planet speaks Dutch. So as a British visitor you can expect just about anyone you meet being able to speak English.

The Dutch come over as an affable people but they are mostly big and athletic and can rear up, like the cyclist who blocked my path after he had narrowly missed colliding with my car. I was on the road, he was coming over a pedestrian/cycle bridge. I blew the horn. He dismounted, with a sour look on his face. I had a ferry to catch in Rotterdam and so was most courteous.

That was in the university city of Leiden, on a detour north from the official media trip to see the Dutch friends, where as an innocent pedestrian I was also harangued by the driver of a skip lorry. Are the Dutch losing their cool as well as their soccer matches?

In Zeeland, we were shown a new-start brewery, a young farmer's switch to making wine, both places open as visitor centres, ate a sticky "bolus" bun and some good meals at reasonable prices. It would make a good two- or three-night visit, allowing time for a walk on the
long beaches, liberally supplied with cafés and restaurants. The water's edge often has an unappealing foam flotsam, which no-one from the Tourist Board could explain.

Going Dutch

Getting there: P&O sails overnight from Hull to Rotterdam and Zeebrugge. Note, if returning from Rotterdam traffic can be congested, and the ferry port is several miles along the north side of the estuary and not clearly signed. On board: well-run, pleasant staff, with a choice of places to eat. The silver service Langan's restaurant is good for dinner but too slow for a relaxed breakfast before you disembark. From £109 each way for a car, two people, standard cabin and up to five days ashore. Telephone: 08716 646464 or www.poferries.com

In Zeeland: Hotel De Zeeuwse Stromen, 4325 GL, Renesse. Modern hotel in the dunes with rooms from 100 euros. Tel. 0031 111 462040 or info@ zeeuwsestromen.nl

Eating: Maritime Brasserie, Zierikzee; Grand Café Helder, Renesse.

Do visit: Veere for its lovely buildings, maritime history, cobbled streets, Scottish trading link. It is now cut off from the North Sea by a dam built in 1961.

In the early 15th century, it was the foundation of the Dutch Navy to fight the Baltic states. In the same century,
the Lord of Veere married Mary Stuart, daughter of the King of Scotland.

In 1598, the Dutch East India voyages started from here to Sumatra. info@vvvwnb.nl

Wine-making farmer: De Kleine Schorre, 4315 PA Dreischor. Guided tour, tasting and snacks 13.50 Euros (0031 111 401550). Or beer-making at the new-start Emelisse Brewery and café, 4493 PA Kamperland (0031 113 370262).

In Britain: Netherlands Board of Tourism and Conventions; PO Box 30783; London WC2B 6DH. Tel: 020 7539 7950. Fax: 020 7539 7953. info-uk@holland.com and www.holland.com