We had cycled to Haastrecht on a bike path that ran parallel to a busy road. No doubt our GPS, had it been working, would have taken us along a pretty country lane that also ran parallel to the road but far enough away that you barely saw or heard the cars. Sigh! Anyway, as […]
Our train left for Gouda from Utrecht at precisely the time our tickets said it would. There’s something to be said about northern Europe’s stoic adherence to the mechanics that make things work. There is no throwing up of hands, when trains do not arrive on time – Paris, cursing coach doors that won’t close
I think before it’s all said and done, I have to ride the Orient Express, because I love travelling by train and I love Agatha Christie!! There is something about going down to the station, with it’s spectacular glass ceiling, imposing iron girders, and maze of intersecting tracks that says, “awe.” From our apartment, we
On our last day in Amsterdam we went to the Van Gogh Museum. Although Vincent was born in Holland, he did most of his painting in the south of France. His brother, on the other hand, remained in The Netherlands, attempting to sell the artist’s paintings there. Perhaps this is why the museum has such an
In Amsterdam, you really don’t have to go to the “pot” cafes, where smoking marijuana is legal, you just have to inhale. OK, it was Saturday night on a long weekend. People were here to party, weren’t they? However, I got the distinct impression that smoking weed was like drinking coffee. It was there to
In Amsterdam, the weather was sunny, but cool. In fact, most of northern Europe was having a very cold Spring. Would this mean that I could still see the famous tulip fields in bloom? Although a late Spring may have prolonged the tulip season, Dutch precision determined that the massive Keukenhof tulip park would close,
I have always loved the idea of a houseboat. To me it suggests a dream-like, almost fairytale existence. “Couldn’t we stay, for our three days in Amsterdam, in a houseboat, ” I asked? My husband, who is not nearly as romantic, noticed that the bedrooms were below deck – no windows, not even a porthole
Sixty stairs, I must be on holiday, let me explain. Last year, when we were in France, we booked 3 apartments through Home Away. All of the units were on upper floors in buildings without elevators. I now consider climbing stairs as the yin to the vacation’s yang – or is it the other way
I have some friends on FB who always seem to elevate the situation. Don’t get me wrong, I still love the ones who make me laugh, post inspirational thoughts for the day and remind me I have to avoid genetically modified food – good luck on that one. However, Kim Findlay’s posts always suggest that
At the risk of posting twice in close succession about poetry (I could lose the few readers I have), I feel that I have to give you (and me) a little more Mary Oliver. These are excerpts of simple poems that say so much. From “The Journey” You strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to
