I Love Paris...

Friday, 7/29

Indeed we did sleep well, not even the market trucks arriving woke us in the morning. More clouds shrouded the sun, but when we did emerge, we had no trouble locating souflee like pastry with custardy deliciousness and very good cappuccino. Our first order of business was to find Notre Dame. Greg negotiated the complex subway system (like a rainbow, there our violet lines, chartruces, maroon...) Anyhow we arrived on the island (yes, bridges and subways come to and fro but the church is surrounded by the river) and found our way to this famous church. At first, I was unimpressed. From afar it was just two blunt towers intricately carved. But as you approach the detail comes into play. Countless protruding gargoyles decorate the butresses and inside intricate stained glass windows are a sight to behold. Greg and I grabbed a crepes to munch on as we walked around the structure viewing some parks and gardens that surrounded it. The Louvre, sunshine in the statue gardens, matching lawn chairs crowded around various fountains making it seem like a day at the pool or a block party. On our way to the next stop we stumbled upon the high end shopping street: Louis Vitton, Cartier, Rolex, Tiffany's, Dior, and more. Only window shopping for us in this area. Another metro needed to be mounted to reach our next destination. As we moved through the crowd we realized we had entered a very ethnic neighborhood. There was an African influence here and as we hiked up a particularly steep street toward the church, we realized we were on beauty parlor row. Frizzy hair balls blew down the sidewalk like tumble weeds in a western. Wigs and weaves were the fashion of choice here, in fact one lady called out to me in French saying something about my hair. Either she wanted to cut it off and make a wig out of it or she was dying to give me a weave, some things get lost in the translations. None the less, Greg and I kept trekking up the inclining streets of this 'hood until we reached a very steep set of stairs. After our extreme climb through this interesting neighborhood, both Greg and I were feeling a bit tired again. Our legs remembering all the steps of yesterday (and how we have to go up four flights each time we return to our room) were protesting, so we took a break at a colorful cafe at the foot of a steep flight of stairs that headed in the direction of Sacre Cour, the sacred heart chapel. After sharing a carafe of cold white wine with my sweet husband I was ready to face....more stairs! As we climbed, sprinkles began again, but we found them cooling and encouraging, hoping to reach the top and get in the church before it started to pour. Luckily the rain was gentle. As we entered the church, which was impressive in its facade, I felt chilled. Not by the transition from cool rain outside to warm stuffy cloisters, but there was a genuineness in this church. A couple huddled around candles that they lit and spoke in whispers about healing a suffering friend. Old women knelt on crickety knees at the alter in earnest prayer. Usually not one to pray, I thought, what do we have need to pray for? Seeing a liquid silver looking statue of the Madonna and child I thought, Greg's sister Devon is expecting and is only days away from her due date, let us direct our thoughts in this holy place toward a safe and easy delivery for her. It was a beautiful church, inside and out and that is coming from someone who has seen more churches that she can count in the last six weeks. Back outside the rain had stopped, and we were witness to a very amazing and talented street performer who had gathered hundreds of people in appreciation for his art. This man of African decent stood on a pillar with a soccer ball, he performed all sorts of amazing feats with the ball, like taking his shirt off while balancing it on his head, rolling it all over his body and kicking it up to himself continuously without faltering. For his finale, Soccer Man climbed a light pole while kicking and shimmying with the ball, he then held the ball between his feet and gripped the pole with both hands straightening his body perpendicular to the ground some 15 feet below him. He was a real crowd pleaser. One had to wonder how many times a day he did this routine. Here is an example of real applicable strength vs. going to the gym. We wound our way back to the metro where in only one transfer, good job Greg "The Map Man" Jackson, we got back to our hotel. Cleaned up for dinner, we headed out for a real French meal. I enjoyed the sea bass and Greg had to have more risotto and for dessert we enjoyed the cheese plate. As budding cheese connosuirs we loved analyzing all the flavors. There was creamy fragrant brie, a milky salty alpine firm cheese, blue cheese with the taste of the pasture (you could smell the hay and grass), and the goat cheese was so distinct that you could tell the goat fed on lavender and sage brush. Greg even ordered champagne to go with our dessert. It was a meal to remember! Back to the room to prepare for our final country of this journey. Tomorrow we are off to meet Die Schweiz.

The Iron Giant

Thursday, 7/28

Early to rise for another chocolaty breakfast in Belgium. Greg grabbed one more St. Bernardus for the train and we tossed on our packs and boarded the Belbus, which was there early (Thanks to Jackie for reserving it for us) and got us to the station with plenty of time to spare. By 11:30 we had already changed trains twice. First Poperinge to Kortrijk and then the train from Kortrijk to Lille Flanders. Luckily as we got on the second train Greg read and understood something about "diese zug hier gesplittet" at this station, so he checked with conductors and sure enough we were sitting in a section that was to be split and left behind! We hurried to one of the front three cars as instructed that were going on to Lille Flanders and were on our way. I never would have caught that, thank goodness for his quick acquisition of foreign language! In Lille Flanders, we had an hour before boarding the train to Paris Nord. We ventured out of the station, heavy backpacks in tow, to find a snack and see the city for a moment or two. A few beggars and a very upset mentally ill woman made for a poor initial impression of the city, but we did manage to see another impressive church and to find the final holy grail of Belgian food in the border city. We enjoyed a second breakfast of a Belgian waffle topped in chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and sliced bananas. After this quick bite it was time to head back to the station and board our train for Paris. This was a reserved train, as it can be a popular one. Our seats in first class were very posh (It is funny how much this varies from train to train, sometimes there is virtually no difference between the 1st and 2nd class seats save a partition and the marking of "1" on your car. Other times 2nd class seats are very shabby and 1st class has arm chair style seats, tons of legroom, lap tables and treats.) To quote Forrest, Trains across Europe.." are like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get!" The same can be said of WC on the train. When I first wrote about the water closet on the train, I mentioned how fun, breezy and refreshing it was. Not always true, sometimes they are filthy and stinky (even in 1st class). But if you gotta go... There were other distractions on the train to Paris, a mom had boarded getting her 8 and 12 year old daughters settled in their seats, with many kisses and reminders in French before she departed. I was wondering what adventure she was sending the girls off on. They seemed excited going into the city alone but were extremely well behaved and entertained themselves on the hour ride talking in whispers to one another. We wondered who would meet them at the station. Greg wondered were mom and dad separated and the girls were going to spend the weekend with him? But when we arrived at the station, my theory won out, their doting grandpa was there to receive them with hugs and kisses on their cheeks. They had the joy and anticipation on their faces that only a visit to the grandparents could have supplied. People watching is one of the best forms of free entertainment we have experienced. Back in a big European city again after many days in the countryside, an automatic shift takes place in a traveler. Relaxation and slow pace are vanquished by the slap-in-the-face-like urgency of the city. It is either move with the rhythm of the city or be trampled by it. This is not necessarily a bad thing, it gives one new energy and forces you to live in the moment. As we were examining the metro boards trying to figure out how to get to our hotel, a supposedly stuffy Parisian who was checking the board along side us asked kindly, "Do you need help?" Yes, we did. While we thought that we'd mastered the metros due to our experience in Rome with it's four lines, Milan's city metro system, and an even larger number in Berlin for both the underground and S-bahn, this 14 plus line system of various different hues (plus upwards of 250 stops) was tough to make heads or tails of. When we told the Parisian man where we were headed he said, "Ah, this is easy, it could be worse." He studied the map with us patiently found the most direct route, only one transfer, pointed out the way to that line through the station, and reminded us to keep a close eye on our bags. What a nice man! He was the first of many to help dispel the myth that Parisians are mean or rude. With his instructions we easily made our way to our destination. Walking down the Rue Cler, the market street where our hotel is located, even though a few raindrops fell, various sights and smells tantalized our senses. Heaps of fresh fruit were set out on stands, fresh fish waited on ice. The cheese store had an impressive window display and the wine shop was right next door to our hotel. Four flights up, not about to attempt the one person plus one bag lift that looked like a transparent coffin to me, we hoofed it. Our room was small but rich colors of brown and mauve made it feel chic. The bathroom, tiny but functional. We have a tiny window balcony, complete with a box of geraniums, that looks down on the busy market below but perhaps the best part is that we are only a few blocks from the Eiffel tower. So of course, we had to go see that gigantic iron maiden. As we approached the imposing structure, we realized if we were to climb it, we would need more fuel. Lucky for us at that moment with little warning the sky burst open in a sudden downpour of rain. Looking to take cover, we ran back about a block to a small cafe we had passed on the way. The owner welcomed us, but asked that we move deeper within the cafe to sit, because the sudden rain might bring him more customers. What a savvy business man. We split our first French meal, and omelette with potatoes, mushrooms, onions and cheese. As the clouds parted and pockets of sun peaked through we tossed back an espresso and headed for the tower. The lines for the elevators looked between one and two hours long, though we had already opted to ascend using our able bodies. We only needed to stand in line for ten minutes to get our tickets to climb to the second floor. NOTE: The first floor is many, many, many flights of iron stairs up and the second floor is as far as one can go on foot. Our quads burning furiously, we stopped at the first floor for some photo ops. You can see all of Paris at close range from this level. Greg pointed out Notre Dame, Sacre Cour, the Invalides, and more. After a sightseeing break, we braved the stairs to the second level. We emerged, calves throbbing, to the slow patter of rain. We got a few good peeks from up here but had to duck into the center for shelter. As the rain slowed, we popped back out to look at the amazing views. We opted not to take the elevator to the summit for multiple reasons, the 45 minute line that you needed to wait in (in the rain), the sardine packed status of the conveyance, and plus we were tired from our climb and had already seen the best views of Paris I could imagine. Slowly down the steps, I'm not sure how many steps there are but you are too tired to count them in the end. Somehow after this physically taxing experience we decided to try to find the Arc de Triumph. I had seen it from the tower but it was just a speck. Greg with map in hand, was sure we could find it before dinner. So we crossed the River Seine and found the Champ d' Elise. This expensive street houses the most expensive and famous cafes and stores in Paris. We passed the famous Lido movie theaters and then there it was, at the end of the boulevard. We passed through the underground tunnel to get a closer look. By the time we reached the honary flame that lit the arch, I was beat. We were both tired beyond belief, the omelette that fueled our tour climb had long since burned off, and I had a raging headache to boot. We decided to find a metro back to the hotel and then grab a late dinner. After some advil and a brief rest, we emerged after 10pm to search out a light supper. Luckily this was prime time for dinner in Paris. We found a small cafe on our street that was not at all pretentious. We ordered the risotto with asparagus and pesto to share. Our waitress didn't even bat an eye at our tiny order. She brought us a basket of bread and I'll be damned if it wasn't the creamiest most perfect risotto either of us had ever had. This sweet girl from Eastern France and of Chinese descent who happened to be our waitress, went above and beyond dispelling the grumpy French myth. She chatted to us about our travels, genuinely interested in where we had been and where we were going. In fact she was able to tempt us into dessert "to share" a small apple tart with creme fraiche. Oh, la, la! The meal while simple was lovely and memorable and by the end of it my headache was long gone. Hopefully after a long night sleep we'll be up for seeing more of the city in the morning.

In Bruges

Wednesday, 7/27

You never know what opportunities may come your way as a traveler. We've read in guide books that say one should 'just say yes' to new experiences. Today was one of those days and we were very pleased with our results. We awoke to visit the breakfast buffet at the B and B where we had all the usual fair but added to the list of goodies were squares of Belgian chocolate. Really chocolate for breakfast? No complaints here! We each ate a few pieces and I even broke some up and stirred it into my coffee. Belgian chocolate deserves its reputation, it rocks! After breakfast, Jackie said she had arranged a tour of the brewery for any guest who would like to come. We were there with bells on! It was very interesting to see all the modern machines used for bottling and to hear about the process of making the beer. Did you know it takes them three to four months to complete the process and have it ready for shipping? We also learned that the brewery actually used to have a monk come and visit to make sure they were doing it right. Also before they made beer here, they made cheese! Wise choices St. Bernardus! Back in the common room, we perused pamphlets, we really had no idea what to do with our day. It looked like it might rain, so we didn't know if we wanted to ride forty-five minutes on bikes to the Trappist Brewery Sixtus, even though they have the reputation for the best beer in the world... We were approached by a friendly pair of young guests from Philadelphia who were eager to talk beer and sightseeing with us. They were very knowledgable and seemed to have done their homework on the area. They were headed to Bruges for the day, and offered to have us ride along with them. Having just met Evan and Amanda, should we accept such a generous invitation? Why the heck not! They were friendly travelers. Amanda is a French teacher and Evan and Greg had a love of beer in common. We met them at their rental car and headed off to see the city. It is really cool that we got this chance, because otherwise we would have missed seeing so much of Belgium. The drive to Bruges was a little over an hour, and during that time we got to see hop fields, vegetable patches, Flemish farmhouses, and other small towns, as well as getting acquainted with our new friends. We arrived in Bruges just in time for lunch. Greg had only one request; must have mussels. We all know that mussels and Brussels go hand in hand, but being in Bruges was close enough. A small but expensive cafe was found down a cobbled alley that provided us with great beer and Greg with a giant crock full of mussels, with some help from the table, he finished those mollusks. Evan had to run back to the car and feed the meter so to speak, these old cities have ridiculous time limits on parking. Then we walked the city seeing the quaint squares, old churches, and charming canals. Bruges was great but it was time to feed the meter yet again, rather than walk back to the car yet another time during our visit Amanda and Evan asked if we'd like to see another town on the way back to Watou and perhaps have a light dinner there. It sounded like an excellent plan as Bruges was quite crowded with tourists and parking was such a challenge. We ended up in Ieper, which we dubbed the undiscovered Bruges. Parking was free outside of the main square, it was blessedly free of tourists (except for us), and it had one of the most impressive churches we have seen in our travels. We also found something else I had been seeking all day in Belgium, a little chocolate shop. We bought a small box of white, milk, and dark chocolate (sad to say as of writing this blog tonight we've consumed almost half of it already, but we did share with our friends). We found a small cafe that served more local beer and sandwiches. It had been a long day, but a very fun-filled adventure exploring Belgian villages with two unexpected and much appreciated fellow travelers. Greg and I arrived back at the B and B around 9pm with enough time to shower and pack for the morning. Tomorrow we leave Belgium and I feel satisfied that I supplied Greg with a sufficient sampling of beer and myself with an acceptable amount of chocolate and we have both seen a nice smattering of what Belgium has to offer.

Bedding down at the Brewery

Tuesday, 7/26

Neither Greg or I were prepared for just how much we would love the countryside of Holland, so when it came time to leave this morning, it was hard to get motivated to move too fast. Plus we had experienced another mid-night round of fireworks, once again no one knew the occasion and we had to get resettled after looking outside to see what all the commotion was. We drug ourselves out of bed listening to the morning barnyard serenade and enjoyed one last breakfast delivered to our door. Hannie always rotated in something new to keep breakfast exciting each morning. Today, three types of cereal with dried fruit was added to our bread, jam, butter, yogurt, coffee, and eggs. Finally we realized if we were going to make the train we'd have to hustle. Bags were quickly packed, animals were bid a hasty farewell, and Hannie hauled us off in her van toward the bus depot. Once at the depot we realized the bus we meant to catch for Gouda had already left. We still had enough time to make the next bus and connect with our train but it would be tight. Hannie didn't want us to have to rush, so she insisted on driving us to the train station another twenty minutes away. Wishing Hannie a fond farewell at the station, we made it to our train with plenty of time to spare. The first train of the morning took us from Gouda (locally pronounced like HOW-DA as the Dutch 'G' sounds like the 'CH' sound in the Hebrew pronunciation of Chanukah...) to Rotterdam. Since it was another day the Eurail pass would be earning it's worth, we sort of went the long way around in order to utilize to the trains, then made several different connections until we were headed in the right direction. So the first leg to Rotterdam was only about twenty minutes by train from Gouda; in fact we could see it down the river on our bike ride yesterday. Rotterdam is a town that was leveled in the bombings of World War II. Hannie had explained on one of our many car rides that when they rebuilt the city, they decided to go very modern, the sky scrapers and big buildings are very unusual for this area. I have noticed a stark difference between American and European perceptions of the permanence of that war. While in the U.S. most of our WWII vets have passed away by now and the war seems a distant memory (as it was not fought on our land most of us don't have daily reminders), here in Europe people speak of it as if it just happened last year. There is no clarification about which war, it is "the" war. The landscape and the communities are still physically scarred by it. This was most prevalent in Eastern Berlin where certain areas were only now starting to be renovated, even in the last ten years since Greg's initial visit to the area he noticed that parts of eastern Berlin that had been sort of a wasteland were just now starting to be built up again. We hope that no one will ever forget that war, the injustices that were being combatted and the atrocities that were committed, but it is a much sharper reminder for Europeans who still see the destruction it reaped on their homeland and are still trying to heal it.

Enough with the historic commentary... From Rotterdam we caught a train to Antwerp which took us across the Belgian border. More flat green expanses and farm land paved our way. Antwerp to Kotrijk was a tight transfer. We had to run up the stairs to our platform and landed in our seats, huffing and puffing as the train pulled away from the station, barely making it. From Kotrijk to Poperinge it was only another twenty minutes. The larger cities in Belgium have reminded me a bit of San Francisco in that there are lots of tall skinny buildings that are shouldered right up against each other (but certainly a much less colorful, less hilly version of S.F.) The countryside is more spread out. We arrived at Poperinge hoping to make the transfer to the Belbus. We waited and waited, it didn't come. Hmmm....Greg asked in the train station. Apparently you have to call the Belbus two hours in advance, sort of like a taxi. We'd never heard of a bus like that. Could we get a taxi? No, the town has no taxi service. So Greg gave Jackie at our B and B a call, sure enough she offered to come pick us up. This has been our lucky day. As Jackie drove us through the fields of hops, she commiserated with us about the frustrating Belbus system and said she'd help us reserve a bus for our trip back to the station. We learned that Dutch (aka Flemish, around here) and French are spoken here, but most everyone has a little English. When we arrived, we found beautiful English garden like grounds. So you know I'm loving it. We also learned that we are on the property of the Brewery, so now you know Greg is in heaven. He watched each town that passed by on the train and counted signs advertising his favorite Belgian Brews. So we will be spending two nights at the St. Bernardus Brewery. There is a main house where breakfast will be served and a common room with serve yourself beer. Our room is off the main house, in a separate wing of rooms, with little patios out front. It is a large comfy room with a giant bathroom. We learned that these rooms were converted from a part of the property that once was the cheese-making facility. They've since gone to brewing and bottling exclusively, and run a tight ship operating six days a week to supply the world with at least six unique Belgian ales. To get into the little town of Watou, we were going to require transportation. Jackie showed us a variety of bikes. The fancy new beach cruisers were for rent at 10 Euro a day, but since we were just going to dinner there were a variety of less fancy bikes that we could take for free. Super, we'll ride a free bike any day. This ended up being hilarious. The bike I tried to mount was way to tall for me, the seat was locked in place, so it couldn't be adjusted. Greg kindly traded with me and his seemed to work better as I could touch the ground with my tippy toes if we had to stop. For some reason my bike fit Greg strangely and he sort of resembled the typical clown riding a tricycle. Aside from that the bikes squeaked and rattled so on the path to town that I had the cartoon image of all of the pieces falling away and us pedaling mid-air holding onto disconnected handlebars and eventually falling into a heap of rubbish coursing through my mind. We did arrive in town after some effort on the up hill as the gears didn't really work. We were starving by the time we got to Hommel Haus. We were pleased that it looked like a really nice restaurant but unfortunately the prices reflected this as well. What the heck, we are nearing the end of our trip and this place was recommended for pairing fine Belgian Beer with cuisine. I settled on a salad with warm goat cheese and croutons, crowded with fresh berries and a honey raspberry beer dressing. It was amazingly delicious. Greg ordered the monk fish with carrot and potato puree in a lobster beer sauce. The texture of the fish was like lobster, it was all excellent, as well as the two beers we sampled. After coasting back down the path to our B and B (it was much easier riding the bikes home, as it was down hill), we spent some time in the sitting room at the B and B sampling some beer from the fridge. I can't think of a better way to end the day.

No hills, windmills, dikes, and bikes!

Monday, 7/25

When we woke this morning we were ecstatic to see blue through our skylight, which was still amid high striated clouds, but no sign of rain in the near future! The animals were singing a chorus of contented clucks and whinnies as Greg and I consumed another legendary breakfast (this time Hannie had noticed we didn't eat the meat from yesterday, so she left that out and replaced it with additional fresh boiled eggs!) I was chomping at the bit to get out the door and explore. We threw some sandwiches and some of Hannie's plums in our day pack and by 11 we were on our bikes and riding along the dike. Riding bikes here is really easy, bike lanes are everywhere and the land is so flat, there are virtually no hills. About a kilometer down the road from our B and B was a ferry station, where we were able to cross over to the other side of the river Lek. After we crossed over we biked past a variety of adorable small towns with a great variety of thatched roof houses. Greg found signs leading to a bike path that took us over cute old bridges and through pastures and past farms that led to a row of old fashioned windmills. Hannie had schooled us before we left this morning on windmills. She told us, "You will see many windmills. Some will have the wooden shoes and bikes out front. Not all of these are for tourists because people do actually live in them." Sure enough, we could see row boats docked up, laundry strung out to dry, lawn furniture, plenty of evidence that some of these windmills were residences. We did find one on Kinderdijk that was clearly labeled as a tourist sight, complete with ticket booth, and got to go inside and climb up the the many steep ladder like stairs to the top where the cogs and wheels were housed. Parts of the windmill were preserved inside to show how people long ago lived in them. Greg and I wondered how modern owners had renovated these to make them liveable. We sat near the mill to have our sandwiches and watched the proprietors attach the fabric sails to the blades of the windmill and the wind set it into motion. Lunch and a show! Back on the bikes, we made our way back across the river. When we crossed over and looked at the mile markers, we realized we were about 10 kilometer from home. This could have been a pretty quick ride back, but every 2 minutes there was another photo worthy sight. We were constantly hoping off our bikes to take a picture of that cow, or this house, or that garden! Towns with ding-donging churches, an ancient looking watch tower, charming homes and gardens, more goats, ponies, even some deer, were our distractions on the ride back. About an hour after crossing the river we finally coasted down our driveway. We had been on and off the bikes for about four hours so we needed a little rest, followed by figuring out our train/ bus schedule for tomorrow. A dinner of leftover Chinese take-out supplemented by instant noodles, plus trying to snack our way through some of the remaining groceries before we depart tomorrow, will hopefully fuel us enough to pack. It will be hard to leave since we've been so well taken care of by Hannie. Truthfully, we've had countless gracious hosts so far on this journey. Tomorrow, on to Belgium to meet another hostess with great reviews.

A day of rest

Sunday, 7/24

Sometimes you choose a day of rest and sometimes it chooses you. It rained steadily throughout the night, so we took our time and lingered over the breakfast that was delivered to the hall outside our door. Soft boiled eggs direct from the hen house (served in a hand-sewn cozy to keep them warm), fresh butter, goat cheese, breads and rolls, homemade berry and apple jam with various cheeses and meats and a large pot of coffee and fresh milk. I felt like Shirley Temple in the Little Princess when she and her friend/ fellow servant Becky are freezing cold and being kept in the attic (imagine with me people, we are in a room over the garage...sort of an attic) and a kind soul provides them with an amazing tea complete with warm rolls. Remember? Well that's how I felt and me and my Becky (a.k.a. Greg) sat and stuffed ourselves joyfully. Later that morning we tried to brave the day and took our umbrella outside, dressed in all of our warmest garments to stand in the driveway and stare at the animals beyond in the field. The cold was so severe that we were shivering, and the wind was so fierce that our umbrella was turned inside out in a matter of minutes. The rain was relentless and hitting the ground at a 45 degree angle, so that even after we righted the umbrella, it was still useless in keeping us dry. We huddled in the stairwell and Hannie joined us to declare, "Well, this is Holland." She offered to drive us to the bus station and we could tour a different town today, however the idea of going anywhere in this weather seemed dangerous to us and certainly unpleasant. The other option taking the bikes out locally would have had us soaked through in minutes. (Besides my grandma doesn't like the idea of me riding a bike in the rain, I'm sure she wouldn't be a fan of us mounting up on wheels in a storm and we aim to make grandma a happy lady!) So, we opted to stay at the farm today. Greg surprised me by eagerly starting work on the windmill puzzle. It is very cool to learn new things about your mate after five years of marriage, and today I learned that Greg is a puzzle machine! He worked constantly and strategically on the puzzle until lunch. I helped occasionally but often poked my head out the window to see how the animals were fairing in the weather. Despite the pouring rain, the horses grazed, the ducks swam, the heron fished, and the bunnies looked for shelter. We discovered two giant rabbits on the property today. They are super big; a breed called Flemish Giant! I've never seen a bunny that large, at first I thought it was a cat but in fact it dwarfed the cats. We pieced together a lunch of instant soup and cheese and apple open faced sandwiches. The storm continued to rage and Greg completed the outer circle of the puzzle. I did some yoga to warm up. When we peeked out of our room in the afternoon, Hannie had left a basket of plums just picked from her tree and kissed with dew as a rainy day afternoon snacks for us. Don't you just love her?! Finally around dinner time the storm began to slow down. Hannie volunteered to take us to pick up some Chinese Take-Out since she knew it would be too cold and wet to take the bikes out tonight. We enjoyed chatting with her on the car ride to the next town over and learned some more about her and the land. Satisfied with the most bland Chinese food we had ever had, Greg settled in to finish his puzzle. Around sunset (which wasn't until well after nine), I noticed the sun had actually made an appearance and the rain had seemingly stopped. I ran outside to visit with the geese, goats, bunnies and ducks and to take some photos not knowing if this might be my one minute in the sun to do so. Back in the room the light was growing dim, Greg was still trying to piece together the blue sky in the puzzle. All the pieces look the same, so it takes great patience to find which ones match. As he was searching out his blue sky, I was hoping that we'd see some in real life tomorrow and have a chance to explore this beautiful countryside before we have to leave. My time with the animals has been precious to me. Even watching them through the window is so entertaining. At dusk, we heard a ruckus in the hen house and peered out our bathroom window to see what was going on. The geese were being scolded for trying to come in the door by an obstreperous hen squawking on the fence, the goats (not Billy, but two others I call Hansel and Gretel) came over to investigate the scene and those two were allowed to enter the shed full of chickens without complaints from the brood. It's like a soap opera at times! With so many unique personalities there's bound to be drama. Though this was not the way we expected to spend our day in Holland, I think it is a day we will each remember fondly and it was a well needed rest from our busy and active travel schedule.

Green Acres

Saturday, 7/23

We slept in late again... the "Opium Den" sort of lends it self to that. (Don't worry, it's just another nickname we've given our Amsterdam basement room). We spent the morning listening to tragic news about Norway. Fairly sure these terrorist attacks are localized and sadly homespun, we feel safe with our remaining travels in Europe. Since our apartment owner Daniel, had said we should feel free to stay however long we wanted today, we took our time packing up, showering, charging electronic devices and set our check out time for 1pm, so we could enjoy a take out lunch in our room before heading for the train station. Our travel time today was short, only one hour by train from Amsterdam to Gouda and then 25 minutes by bus to Bergambacht. We called Hannie when we reached the bus and she was there to pick us up when we arrived. Immediately friendly and helpful, Hannie chatted with us about our travels and pointed out tidbits about Holland. She pointed out how the river was on higher ground than all the houses, basically all these farm houses are below sea level. I wish I could say that along with the beautiful landscapes we've found more beautiful weather but alas, it is still very cold and stormy. However Greg and I have managed to stay fairly dry today. We got settled in our apartment, a small studio above the garage (somewhat to our relief it is not actually in a barn loft as we had thought). We have a large bed under a sloping roof with a skylight/window (our bathroom has a matching style skylight/window), a couch with book shelves and TV and a small minibar area with a dining table. After leaving the bags in our apartment, Hannie loaned us two bikes to go into town with and get some food at the supermarket, then find dinner in town. She thought it would be inconvenient for us to have to cart our groceries to dinner, so she arranged to meet us at the market and bring our items back to the farm and drop them off in our room. This is one nice lady! So we had a cold but rain free bike ride into town, I can't tell you exactly how long our ride is (10-15 minutes, maybe?) but it is such a beautiful ride, we see all the straw thatched farm houses, beautiful animals, charming canals that crisscross the land, and the substantial waterway that separates us from a huge old fashioned windmill that we will try to visit in the next few days. We hurried into the market just as it began to rain and spent some time gathering snacks and lunch items for the weekend. As we exited, the sprinkles were stopping and Hannie was there in her car to take our bags back and wish us a happy evening. We parked our bikes at the bus station and walked into the tiny town center. It was virtually abandoned except for the main restaurant/pub which was packed with Spandex clad bikers watching the Tour de France. We enjoyed some local beer and a prawn dish with spaghetti. (Fusion food seems really big here in Holland, they serve some Italian/ Continental/ Asian and just present it with some fries and mayo and its fit for the Netherlands!) My favorite part about the food in the Netherlands thus far is the bread. Delicious billowy soft bread accompanies each meal with sweet butter or in tonight's case a tomato herb butter. It rained on and off as we enjoyed our warm meal, luckily as we headed back to our bikes it was temporarily dry again. It was a cold ride home, riding into the headwinds. Suddenly, I brought my bike to a screeching halt, something out of place had caught my eye, behind a wire fence near a bush. I shouted to Greg, "Stop! Koala!" I don't know why I said "koala" because that is not what I saw, but my mind couldn't come up with the name of the animal quick enough, plus I simply just didn't expect to see it here in Holland. What I had seen was a wallaby (one very close to the fence and a small mob off in the distance). We realized we were biking past some sort of exotic animal farm. There was an emu, some giant South American rodents called a capabara, and a tiny horned gazelle of some sort. It really threw me off to see these animals in the midst of all the cows, horses, goats, sheep, ducks, geese, and such we're growing accustomed to seeing in this area. Of course our expected animals are present, but how fun to see something so unexpected. We took a few photos of the wallaby closest to the fence, the whole time with me cooing compliments at her. Then something truly amazing happened, a small albino joey poked his head out of her pouch to have a look at us. I am in animal lover's heaven here! We continued our ride home and saw a giant Heron take flight from a light post. As we coasted back into the driveway, I made salutations to the sheep in the front yard. Hannie came out to make sure we had enjoyed our dinner and to help us park our bikes in the garage. We had one more question for her, did she know of any laundry mats we could visit. No she didn't, but we could use her machine, she even helped us get it started. Hannie is the best, she even added fabric softener to our load, a luxury we haven't had since leaving home. Back in our room, with what we hope will be our final load of laundry while in Europe brewing down stairs, we enjoyed the view out our back window. At 9:30 it was still bright out. There are animals galore on this farm. First there are the cats named Puma and Tiger. (We met Puma when we arrived, a lovey black cat who was keeping our couch warm for us and Tiger, a stripey girl, introduced herself by making a funny racket when it started to rain outside again). We have not been formally introduced to the horses yet but I can see them from the living room window. Of course I've given them all nicknames. The white one is Star Shine. There are 6 brown horses; Nutmeg, Cinnamon, Anise, Clove, Mace, and Allspice. (Devon, Greg said if you wanted to borrow any of those as possible baby names for Chuck, feel free!) A white goat shares real estate with the horses, for lack of creativity after naming all those horses, I call him Billy. (But I say it with an Irish accent like from the movie Billy Elliot. When the goat cavorts away from a gust of rainy air, tossing his goatee in the wind, I shout, "Go Billy!") In addition, there are two geese. I call them Cranky and Fussbudget. (More possible baby names Devon, I'm telling you I'm full of 'em today!) There are also a slew of ducks, too many to name so far. I am loving this place! While we do have TV here, I have other plans for tonight. I found a 500 piece windmill puzzle on our bookshelf and I am bound and determined to get Greg to help me put it together. Let's just hope all the pieces are there, wish us luck!