Storybook Holland
On Wednesday, July 11 we left Bergen Op Zoom and found our beloved bike route again. Our riding was somewhat uneventful until our lunch stop. We found a little diner run by a man from Hong Kong. He was selling mostly Dutch fast food (you don't want to know!) and when he mentioned that one thing in the case was spring rolls, our eyes lit up. They have a curious system where the raw food, mostly meat that seems to be extruded from some weird shaping machine, is displayed in the case. You choose it, they take it and fry it, and then you eat it. Thank goodness the Dutch do so much cycling and walking. French fries are served with either mayonnaise or a peanut butter sauce.
We had another of those interesting tri-lingual conversations, and when we showed him our map, he was very excited about the Molens we would see. We didn't think too much about it, but as we traveled, we found ourselves on a narrow pathway that wound its way through the famous canal system. We saw cows and sheep on both sides, and the countryside was amazing. Suddenly as we came around a turn, we found ourselves surrounded by the traditional windmills that we've all seen in picture books since we were little. It was really almost magical. The magical part was that we approached this group of them from the far end of about 20 that were in the area. As we progressed, we realized that the tour buses were parked at the other end. Fortunately, we had only a few hundred yards of wining through gaping tourists who weren't paying attention to where they were going.
We had made reservations for Thursday night at a place outside of Gouda, since a quick check while at the Tulip Inn showed that there were no vacancies in Gouda. We arrived at the town where the hotel was supposed to be located, but couldn't find it. Chris asked some men at a car repair, who kept repeating that it was in a Chinese restaurant. We wrote that off to being lost in translation, and set off to find our hotel. It was raining, and we were all on the border of being miserable, and hungry as the clock ticked on. We found ourselves on what seemed to be a deserted country road, where we had been directed by a woman in town. It just had the look of being farm after farm, with no hope of a hotel!
Roger decided to call the number we'd gotten from the website where we'd booked. Chris and I had a moment of panic, when we heard him say, "In Amsterdam!" After a little straightening out of a communication problem, we decided to continue in the direction we'd been going and about half a mile later, it appeared: The International Trade Centre, complete with the Hotel Het Oosten, part of the largest Chinese restaurant we've ever seen. We burst into laughter about the fact that the old men had been right; we were staying above a Chinese restaurant!!!
Another buffet lost money on us, as we satisfied hunger that had been fueled by an 80-mile day. After breakfast, we set off for Amsterdam.
We had another of those interesting tri-lingual conversations, and when we showed him our map, he was very excited about the Molens we would see. We didn't think too much about it, but as we traveled, we found ourselves on a narrow pathway that wound its way through the famous canal system. We saw cows and sheep on both sides, and the countryside was amazing. Suddenly as we came around a turn, we found ourselves surrounded by the traditional windmills that we've all seen in picture books since we were little. It was really almost magical. The magical part was that we approached this group of them from the far end of about 20 that were in the area. As we progressed, we realized that the tour buses were parked at the other end. Fortunately, we had only a few hundred yards of wining through gaping tourists who weren't paying attention to where they were going.
We had made reservations for Thursday night at a place outside of Gouda, since a quick check while at the Tulip Inn showed that there were no vacancies in Gouda. We arrived at the town where the hotel was supposed to be located, but couldn't find it. Chris asked some men at a car repair, who kept repeating that it was in a Chinese restaurant. We wrote that off to being lost in translation, and set off to find our hotel. It was raining, and we were all on the border of being miserable, and hungry as the clock ticked on. We found ourselves on what seemed to be a deserted country road, where we had been directed by a woman in town. It just had the look of being farm after farm, with no hope of a hotel!
Roger decided to call the number we'd gotten from the website where we'd booked. Chris and I had a moment of panic, when we heard him say, "In Amsterdam!" After a little straightening out of a communication problem, we decided to continue in the direction we'd been going and about half a mile later, it appeared: The International Trade Centre, complete with the Hotel Het Oosten, part of the largest Chinese restaurant we've ever seen. We burst into laughter about the fact that the old men had been right; we were staying above a Chinese restaurant!!!
Another buffet lost money on us, as we satisfied hunger that had been fueled by an 80-mile day. After breakfast, we set off for Amsterdam.
posted by Maggie and Bob @ 8:06 AM
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