Day Fifty

Monday, 8/1

We decided to enjoy Lauterbrunnen and our lovely apartment for as long as possible, ignoring the fact that tomorrow we'll be on a plane headed home. (This valley has made us feel very much at home, in fact we find many similarities between it and our beloved Yosemite). We slept in to be roused by the church bells which hearlded two different weddings on this day. (Fun to see one bride hike up her long white gown while walking through the parking lot to reveal cotton leggings and tennis shoes, the only way to go when you are married in the Swiss Alps where the weather can change in a heart beat.) Speaking of the weather, today it is sunny with a slight cool breeze in the mountains, but as we boarded our train after grabbing a sandwich in the cafe, it got hotter and hotter as we descended into the cities. (Perhaps preparing us for the sweltering heat of Southern California in August!) Despite the stuffy train ride to Luzern (our transfer after Interlaken), we saw beautiful landscapes, more sea sized lakes, rushing creeks (churning white tinged with blue, the color of non-fat milk), and adorable community gardens with small greenhouses adjoining. The Swiss train schedule was impressively on time and we walked very swiftly to make our connections which seemed to zoom away from the station as soon as we were inside the sliding door. On the train to Zurich we munched on the last of our alpine cheese and sipped sparkling apple juice (it is hard to get anything without fizz here, your water and even your juice is most likely going to have some bubbles). Greg returned the Kindle to me so I could finish the final book of the Overlander series. (I am very close to being done and he wants to read it on the way home tomorrow). Very soon we were arriving in Zurich, Greg said it reminds him of the Hollywood Hills the way expensive looking houses perch on hillsides. Bidding farewell to our last train (sniff, sniff) we sook out our last city bus (good riddance, Greg and I agree they were the most difficult form of transportation, regardless of the city!) After a three minute walk from the station we found some bus stops, but not our bus stop. Greg inquired in one bus and the driver pointed us around the corner as he drove off. Greg stuck his head in another bus and asked the driver if this was the right direction. The driver responded brusquely, "Nein, nein!" and Greg barely escaped with his head as the doors speedily slammed shut and the bus zoomed away. (See, the Swiss really do take their punctuality seriously!) You might notice the driver spoke to Greg in German but we've had a mix of French, English and German in this country. You might be greeted "Guten Tag" and at the end of the meal receive a "Merci". This kind of a melding of cultures has been found in the food as well, while many sausages reflect the German, cheeses reflect the French and they throw in some Italian food just for good measure. Anyhow we did eventually find our bus and our hotel was just a two minute walk from our stop. Our airport hotel is in an industrial park. This hotel is also the picture of efficiency. They have a breakfast buffet and restaurant all in house, shuttles every thirty minutes to the airport (which is only ten minutes away), and very clean streamlined rooms, with everything a traveler needs. It will be the perfect place to shower up, repack and organize our luggage, and get easily to the airport in the morning. While our room has a degree of sterility about it there is a huge birch like tree outside our window casting leaf pattern shadows across our walls, imparting a sense of calm. We hope to be able to unwind here and reflect on fifty of the most incredible nights of our life spent traveling this amazing continent and to return home to share our adventures with all of our loved ones who we have missed so dearly. See you soon!

Climb every mountain

Sunday, 7/31

The church bells started to ring at around 7am (and supposedly ring every 15 minutes in between, but I didn't hear them again until around 8:30). We had a relaxed breakfast in our apartment. Scrambled eggs, cereal, and a little bit of alpine cheese made right in this very town. We packed a day pack with essentials, windbreakers, long sleeves, some snacks and water and headed out to learn how to use the tram lines to see the town. It is pretty expensive to get a multi-destination pass, but being that the sun was shining and it was warm out, it seemed the perfect day to go exploring in this alpine setting. We ponied up the 80-plus Swiss Francs for the tickets and boarded our first tram. This cable car type contraption is basically attached to a really skinny looking cable and is hoisted almost straight up into the air and deposits you (and about 50-75 other people who are usually crammed in like sheep) onto a mountain top. It is a pretty smooth ride, except when you hit a support it swings a little, resulting in all adults and children in the tram hollering, "Ohhhh!" No matter how many times you've ridden the car in a given day, it always gives your tummy a little dip and receives the same excited call from the crowd. Our first stop landed us in Murren, a very adorable alpine town, with lots of restaurants, hotels, and recreation. We climbed the hill into town and decided to have lunch at a cafe with an excellent view of Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau (The ogre, the monk, and the young lady; names of the tallest and most famous peaks in this area). We tried the Rosti for lunch ( a local specialty that looks like hashbrowns, it is basically grated potatoes with various toppings). Back on the trail and full of carbs, we hiked through the town of Murren to get to the cable car that goes to the top, Schilthorn (though not officially the highest point in Europe, it is awfully close at 9,154 feet above sea level. To think just about a week ago we were in Holland, below sea level!) It took two cable cars to get to the top, with a stop over on the peak of Birg. While the car itself feels totally stable, except for that occasional sway, it looks like you are on a bus suspended by a rope and this rope is tied to the other side of a cloud. We saw tiny specks that the driver pointed out to us, as we zoomed in with our camera, the dots turned out to be mountain goats clinging to the side of the rocks. When we finally got to the top there was snow on the ground the visibility was nil, we were inside a cloud. Not much need for pictures from the top, but the ride up and down provided many stunning views. One more flight on the truck on a string to nearby Gimmelwald, a tiny, too cute Alpine village. Until the cable car came to the town in the 1960s women who were expecting would start the hike down at the first twinges of labor hoping to make it to Lauterbrunnen before their delivery, those were the days! This village was sprinkled with quaint alpine chalets, sheds decked out with cowbells, baby cows at the road side, flower filled gardens and meadows, and handmade wooden signs advertising homemade cheese and butter. I need to stay longer in this town just to consume more dairy! Alas, it was nearly five and though we had no rain today (hurray) darker clouds were gathering, so we decide to take our last cable car which basically launched over a cliff and went straight down, slowly but directly. Greg whispered, "This is as close to base jumping as we are going to get." My forehead pressed against the glass window, looking the waterfall beneath us and the steadily approaching valley floor, I knew he was right. Back in the valley in the town of Stechelberg, our pass included a ride on the Post Bus to get us back to Lauterbrunnen. From the bus we had a great view of the valley that spread out in front of us and the mountains above us (where we had just spent our day). As I gazed up at the peaks, I saw a strange large bird...no it wasn't ...suddenly a parachute erupted from the shape. It was a base jumper, the first and only one we've seen (and no grandma, he wasn't naked!) The fancy suit he was wearing resembles a flying squirrel with fabric connecting between arms and legs to make wings to help steer himself away from the jagged cliff he had just hurdled himself off. Crazy! Back to our cute apartment, too late to hit the market and make dinner (all grocery stores are closed by 7:00), so we headed to yet another restaurant ( I know I should enjoy, but I really miss cooking...) Soup and sandwiches amidst the sound of fireworks being tested for tomorrow's celebration, August 1st is National Swiss Day! (Not to mention, our day FIFTY!)

Sleepy Switzerland

Saturday, 7/30

And somehow we are awake. An early morning today, so we could pack and grab breakfast at a cafe in the market and then return to the room to saddle up with the luggage before checking out and making our way through the metro to our train all before 10:30. This is the final sprint to the end but our stamina has been fading. Other than needing naps in Italy initially, we've been pretty well rested on our trip. I was feeling sleepy in Belgium and now here in Paris both Greg and I have been pretty exhausted, so we are starting to look forward to catching up on some sleep when we return home. No doubt we'll need to conquer jet lag on that end too! But for now, it is time for the final country on our itinerary, Switzerland. Most of our trains today were reserved. The first train traveled from Paris to Basel (a boarder town) was about a three hour ride. The French countryside was different than any we have seen thus far. Both hilly and flat at the same time and varying from full on forests to fields of dried grass with only the occasional tree. Blue skies in Paris today, but as we left the city more grey clouds were on the horizon in the country. The second train was from Basel to Interlaken, about two hours long. Our state of exhaustion required much napping but waking with a start each time the train announcement chimed to make sure we didn't miss our stop. Interlaken had such and expansive alpine lake it was almost sea like and the color of the water was akin to something you'd find off an island in the Caribbean; turquoise waters. The third train was a short hop, skip, and a jump away from Interlaken, landing us in Lauterbrunnen.

We departed the train to large drops of slow falling rain, not even worth putting up the umbrella for. Following our directions from the hotel, we located the waterfall, walked toward it, spotted the church and looked across the street, there was the Horner Pub. This pub is the best pub in town, because it is the only pub in town (there slogan, not ours). Outside there was a mish-mosh of base jumpers sharing beer and stories, inside we found Angie, who immediately knew who we were and greeted us like old friends. She showed us our apartment across the street, which is huge. We have the whole ground floor, a full kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath, all connected by one long hall. Four whole rooms all to ourselves, one could get lost! I wish we could spend more time here. The views of the church and surrounding hills and mountains from our bedroom and living room are unfathomable, you'll just have to wait for photos, though they cannot fully capture the expanse of this valley. Having stowed our bags we went off in search of food. On the one and only road in town we passed the cemetery, my favorite one I've seen in Europe, and we've seen some pretty beautiful graveyards. This one has natural stone headstones and the plots are planted like mini-gardens. I know it sounds dark to admire a cemetery, but once again, you'll have to see the photos to understand the beauty of it. Down the road was the campground. What an elaborate campsite, with internet and game rooms, a full restaurant and store. Very cool to see how Americans and Europeans can camp in luxury while in Switzerland. We stocked our fridge and grabbed a pizza, too exhausted to cook despite the lovely kitchen. We ended the evening with some genuine swiss hot chocolate, (actually got to put the stove to use) making us irretrievably sleepy. Good night quiet little town of Lauterbrunnen, see you in the morning.

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.