I thought about doing something . . . then realized there was nothing to do.

Sunday morning, got up early in order to eat breakfast and check out.  The thing about Brussels is that it’s really a 1-2 day city; there wasn’t anything else to see, really.  So I sat in the Botanical Gardens to journal for a bit, then walked across the city to the furthest train station, just to see if I had missed anything.  I really hadn’t.  Restaurants owners were out washing down the sidewalks.  All the shops were closed.  A man I was walking behind, an old man who spoke French, found a 50cent piece and felt inclined to show me.  I assured him it would be a good day.

A market had sprung up around the Zuid/Midi Station (the train station I walked to), and I wandered through it, but there wasn’t anything all that interesting. 

Ran into Blake and Scott on the platform, so we got on together.  Then, go figure, everyone else got on at the next stop.  So I wound up riding home with everyone, which was nice.  For the first leg, Sam showed me how to peel an orange in one piece.  For the second leg, David and I listened to his iPod and talked music.  I boarded the train around 11:30, I believe, and we made it back to the castle a little after four, in time to do hoemwork and whatnot.

 So, in summarization, what can be said about Brussels?  Brussels’ big claims to fame are waffles (wonderful), chocolate (can you really go wrong?), comics (I loved the murals everywhere, and the graffiti was often fantastic), the Mannekin-Pis (kinda lame), and the Grand Market (beautiful).  The small, winding roads clogged with shops are, in the evening, about as adorable romantic as it gets; in the daytime, though, the city is quite dirty.  The political turmoil shows in the graffiti, and though the city is really trying to revamp itself, there’s a long way to go.  Trash is everyone; construction is ugly; monuments are beautiful but rarely lit and often not clearly labeled.  It’s sad.  Even some of the old buildings that have so much character are simply crumbling where they stand. 

Fortunately, the city didn’t smell bad, which would be a logical consequence.  Rather, particularly in the city center, you go from one delicious restaurant to another, or like waffles, or cigars.  The small shops are adorable.  The hundreds of chocolate shops all have their own kind of character.  I was horrified by the absence of bakeries and cafes, though, haha.

The rain Saturday was rather miserable, and cold.  I definitely didn’t pack well for so much walking.  Not only did my knee hurt from falling on the stairs, but the backs of my heels bled nonstop for two days because my shoes have just had it.  I’ll have to buy a new pair in London, which I’m NOT happy about.  Uh well.

Overall, I’m glad I went.  Even though I certainly didn’t fall in love with Belgium, there are still some beautiful architecture there, the comics/waffles/truffles are fun, and just seeing different cultures in general is enjoyable.  I hate to make it sound like it’s just a disgusting, dirty city.  It does have some things going for it.  Just not much, haha.  I feel like I didn’t capture the city itself very well at all in these blogs; they’re more about what I did.  But you can look at the pictures on webshots and see the good, the bad, and the ugly yourself.  The weekend, too, was a good mixture of being alone and being with friends.

I feel like I’m forgetting something.  Or maybe it’s just that I feel like these blogs give a very 2-D view of Brussels.  Uh well.  Check out the pictures!

Waffles, Chocolates, Fountains, Chicken, and Friends; One Day

Saturday was a MUCH better day than Friday, despite teh terrible weather.  I was up by seven and ate the provided breakfast (two slices of bread, jam, and a small bowl of cornflakes), then showered.  The hostel was weird in that you couldn’t leave your stuff in the room between 10am and 2pm so they could clean; you had to put it in a locker room downstairs.  So I moved my stuff, then set out in truly miserable weather.

One crummy thing about Brussels is that they don’t really have shelter ANYWHERE.  There aren’t covered benches (I guess I could have sat at a bus stop), so I had no choice but to keep walking almost the entire day.  At one point, when I got so hungry I HAD to eat, I bought a waffle and took a seat in the “Passage du Nord,” this sort of indoor arcade with open ends (truly beautiful; look at the pictures) and all these expensive shops (I bought my truffles in there).  This policeman walked by and motioned to me to get up as though I was an idiot for even trying to sit down.  Well maybe Brussels should invest in some covered benches!  So I wandered around this cute little market that sprang up in covered tents around a fountain across the street.  but I was not happy about having to walk and eat my waffle.  That said, the waffle was delicious and I could totally go for another one right now.

I first hit the big Cathedral, which is absolutely gorgeous; looks architecturally a lot like Wesminster, though obviously a LOT smaller.  After the arcade (that I explained before), I found the Grand Market that had been recommended to me and was truly overwhelmed.  You walk into this huge square and are surrounded by some of the most amazing buildings I’ve ever seen in my life.  You can look at the pictures but even those don’t do them justice.  I’m sure there’s more in good weather, but for the time being there were a few flower stands set up in the center.  Restaurants occupy some of the buildings and spill out into the center.  You feel like you’re in the 18th century.  The wood and stone carvings are glorious.  It’s also, I’m pretty sure, the only square in the city; all the other streets in the city twist and turn and curve horribly.

Continued to wander around and got my souvenir shopping done.  All the streets surrounding the Grand Market are cute little shops (HUNDREDS of chocolate shops; some cool toy stores).  Souvenir shops all seemed to be run by old men and woman who spoke only French; all snack shops were run by Greeks or Turks.  I was very proud that several of my transactions were made entirely in French, though any longer conversation I’m just not capable of yet.  I saw the Mannekin-Pis and was utterly unimpressed.  The fountain is teeny-tiny, shoved into this corner.  And it’s just a little boy peeing into a fountain.  I took pictures but thought it pretty sad if that’s what your city is famous for. 

Found myself, as usual, right next to some political march.  I’m still not sure what they were marching for, but I know Belgium is a political hotbed lately.  So watched them pass, but then I needed to sit for a while, so I wound up buying a croissant from the only bakery I could find and sitting in the window, people watching.  Overall, though, the people weren’t that different from any other European city.  Ethnically diverse; mostly French speaking; lots of tourists around the hot spots like the Grand Market.  With nothing else to do, I went back to the hostel and napped to let my feet dry out and change jeans, then set out with the intention of finding a cafe to just chill in and write for a bit.

Unfortunately, despite being a very French country, there are NO cafes!  They combine cafes with restaurants and/or bars, but I didn’t want to sit in a restaurant or bar.  I literally wandered around for a little under two hours, looking for just a cup of coffee when who should happen to be yelling my name but Sam, David, and their little group.  I was so excited to see them, if only because by this point I was cold, wet, tired, and BADLY in need of some coffee.

So me, Sam, and David wandered around until meeting up with everyone else at seven.  We checked out some comic shops, photographed the giant comic murals painted on buildings throughout the city, got photographed by some random lady when we danced to the music of some street band.  We made faces at cute dogs and babies, engaged in umbrella wars with unsuspecting locals.  Sam bought escargot at a cart set up by the Mannekin-Pis, insisting King Albert ate escargot from that stall so it had to be good.  I tried a piece and LOVED it; who would have guessed I would love escargot?  The three of us had great fun, though I’ve come to the conclusion why I think you can’t really get to know a culture when you’re traveling with friends.  When you’re with friends, at least of your own culture, you’re too introverted with each other; everything you see and hear and do is in relation to your own shared culture.  You aren’t people watching or noticing minute details of the city around you.  Nonetheless, I was glad I met up with them and had a blast being a stupid American tourist for a bit.

I managed to get us back to the meeting point (they had no navigational sense whereas I already knew the city extremely well).  Once everyone arrived, we had a drink (not me; not wasting my money on alcohol!), then went to dinner at an adorable restaurant in the city center, which in the evening has its narrow streets swallowed up by the lavishly decorated tables of one quaint restaurant after another, each boasting oysters, lobsters, or chicken.  The restaurant we finally settled on had a three-course for 12euro50 deal.  The owner was this adorable little Frenchman who even brought the sign in from outside to explain to our party of ten; he really adored us, probably because Blake spoke French well enough to really converse with him.  That and we were bringing in the money.

Dinner was enjoyable.  I had fried cheese, chicken, potatoes, and then a caramel flan.  It was HUGE meal for me, but I was just grateful to not be eating peanut butter and jelly for once, you know?  And it was extremely yummy; totally worth the money, I thought.  We spent dinner discussing movies and actors.  I enjoyed making new acquaintaces, since Sam and David were really the only ones of the group I knew beforehand.  To keep things simple, everyone just gave me cash and we put it all on my credit card (I didn’t have enough cash).  That’s going to be a lovely bill, let me tell you.

Afterwards, all of us went to the Delirium bar, which is famous for having over 2000 beers or some jazz like that.  I don’t know that I totally believe that.  Anyways, a band was going to play (didn’t until after I’d left), so the bar was INSANELY crowded.  Dinner had been expensive so I didn’t want to spend any more money, but I went just to hang out with everyone. We were packed in the bar like sardines.  David and I wound up pressed into a corner, our space more and more infringed upon as the guy behind me grew drunker and drunker.  David himself got a little fuzzy; we had a lovely conversation about relationships, haha.  However, the noise and lack of space in the bar paired with my lack-of-caffeine headache (I never did get my coffee) finally got bad enough that I left a little before midnight. 

Walking home alone after dark wasn’t nearly as shady as I had feared.  The city actually, in some ways, feels nicer after dark when you can’t see all the graffiti and trash anymore, when fewer people are out, when people aren’t so boisterous.  The boys offered to walk me home, but I was fine and made it back to my hostel only to face plant in bed, exhausted.  After all, I’d left my hostel at about 9am and walked around almost all day.  It was a good day, though.

I forgot my Dora the Explorer bandaids at home!

The day started out terribly.  I woke up after not getting any sleep because of the boys next door, and went for the 7:33am train to Venlo.  Unfortunately, this is the bus all the high schools and middle schoolers take to school.  And you can’t buy round-trip before 9am, so my ticket was twice as expensive.  On the way to the station, we hit a roadblock andd had to take a long detour, so I wound up missing the first train I was aiming for.  Then, running up the stairs to catch the next train, I wiped out and skinned my knee/bruised it up.  Really, what 19-year-old skins her knee?  At this point, I had not had coffee and so was almost in tears by the time I boarded train.

Had one connection in Dordrect where I crammed onto a standing-room-only train.  However, as Rosendaal, the next stop, who should be getting on but Sam and David.  They grabbed my hand and pulled me along, so I wound up spending the rest of the ride with them and a bunch of the other musical theatre kids (Meredith, Blake, and Scott) in the very first compartment of the train.  The male train attendant who kept coming up to make announcements over the PA was very nice, particularly to me.  He pretended like he was going to let me make the announcement (in Dutch!), wouldn’t let me look out the window at a sketchy part of town, and even, when he dropped his keys in front of me, said it was because he was so impressed with me.  Too cute.

I got off two stations before everyone else with only a faint hope that we would all run into each other.  Then began a really crummy two-hour search for my hostel.  My directions depended on my finding “Place Rogier,” however I could not find this location on ANY map.  So I wandered and wandered and FINALLY found the stupid place, after meandering through Brussels’ knock-off Red Light District, the school zone, and a small park.  Of course, my first instinct had been right; I had turned back too soon.

I checked in, dropped my stuff off, and then explored a small bit.  The Botanical Gardens nearby weren’t very impressive after Hyde Park and the Boston Public Garden, but at least it was a nice change from all teh dirtiness and construction around my hostel.  St. Maria’s Church, a little north of me, is gorgeous.  Of course, in wandering around it, I got myself lost in the Turkish district, the men happily calling out to me in a language I obviously don’t understand. 

Looking for something to eat, I found the central shopping district which, to be honest, looks like any downtown shopping district.  A city mall surrounded by narrow streets lined with clothing and shoe stores.  Kinda dirty.  I finally stopped in a grocery store to pick up a salad with curry for dinner.

I was so disgusted with the lameness of Brussels at this point that I went back to my hostel in a huff to nap for a bit and recoup.  I had lost an earring back (and later the entire earring, which is my pair that I wear almost daily! it sucks so much) and my shoes were just beginning to destroy the backs of my feet.  My impression thus far had been that Brussels was dirty and ugly, the men were rude.  The only interesting aspect thus far (and that was supposed later on) is that there are SO many interracial couples that it’s noticeable.  I mean, no, I don’t usually pay attention to the skin color of couples.  But it’s a noticeable cultural trend in Brussels, which I found interesting.

Fortunately, after a nap, Brussels redeemed itself.  I went back out in the evening and really only walked for two hours, but I saw enough of a much pretteir side of Brussels during those two hours to save teh trip.  The Congress Column with the tomb of an unknown soldier was beautiful, if kinda randomly shoved to the side of the Rue Royale.  I found Brussels’ Royal Park (not very impressive, but hey, it’s there) and then the Royal Palace itself which is quite beautiful.  I was more impressed with it than with Buckingham, to be honest.  I was taking a picture of myself in front of it when this funny American woman approached and asked me very slowly if I’d like her to take my picture.  We chatted a bit.  It was lovely.

Continued walking and found another church (St. Catherine? Maybe?) which looked like a castle.  I followed some Asian tourists inside despite the “No Visiting” sign and just pretended to be clueless with them, haha.  When one of them said, ‘Oh no! Run!’ I high-tailed it outta there, haha.

What I learned, to quote from my personal journal, is that “Once you go south a bit, the streets get a little cleaner, the graffiti gets more artistic, the restaurants get more expensive, and the men practice biting their tongues.”  The center of the city is certainly the prettiest part.  I found all these expensive antique and art shops that were closed for the day, but lovely to look into.  A few nice little parks and gardens; wonderful dinner smells; a beautiful sky. 

I continued exploring some twisting streets, making sure not to wander too far West and ruin my plans for Saturday.  When the sun had set enough that I worried about getting caught in the dark,  I headed back to the hostel and hung out downstairs in the cafe.

I still, at the end of the day, wasn’t overwhelmingly impressed.  Most of the city just felt dirty and vandilized to me.  The old parts were pretty, but the newer parts were disgusting and ruined teh atmosphere.  I was sick of being yelled at or muttered to by creepy men, of all the garbage and cobbled streets.

My roommates the first night were three Brazilian girls (two were together), two of whom just came from France and gave me some tips.  The four of us talked for a bit before they grew tired of English and just spoke Portuguese amongst themselves.  Finally got sleepy enough to give up and go to bed around ten.

The question still left with me at the end of Friday was: Come on, Belgium.  Show me why you deserve to be your own country.  I had enjoyed some of the architecture, but overall, unimpressed.

Don’t do it.

Don’t judge me.

And it’s not chocolate milk.  It’s chocolate pudding.

Belgium, land of waffles and chocolate!

I leave for Brussels tomorrow morning, as early as I can bring myself to get up and head down to the bus station.  My goal is to make the 8:34 train, which means I’d have to catch I think the 7:03 bus.  I don’t know that this is going to actually happen, but I’d sure like to try.   Although to tell you the truth, I’m feeling lazy and not really in the mood to go anymore, haha.  I think it’s just that there’s SO much travel coming up that it’s overwhelming, and I’m ready for it to be all over already.  I’m kinda ready to have done all the great stuff I’ve got coming up and be back at home with my family for the holidays.

But that’s not an option.  So off I go tomorrow to Brussels.  I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do there (I’ve got some ideas, but nothing concrete).  The hostel site says they have internet access, though I’m not sure they mean wireless.  I’ll be taking my laptop anyways, just for journaling purposes, but nobody expect me to get online again until Sunday night when I get back to the castle (not too late because I’ve got some papers due Monday).  If there’s not wifi, I probably won’t waste the money on internet cafes when I’ll only be gone a couple days, but you never know.

Anyways.  That’s said.  David and a bunch of the other musical theatre kids are staying at my hostel, so I’m sure I’ll run into them, maybe hang with them a bit.  Who knows.  As for now . . . I’m going to go put my chocolate pudding back in the fridge before I puke, do some crunches, take a shower and pack, book my Monaco trip with Amanda, then probably putter around online some more.  Nothing like whittling your life away e-mailing and iming!!

I promised I hadn’t been drinking.

Today I felt horribly sick until the afternoon, when I finally decided to just eat some chocolate.  And it worked.  Suddenly,  I was not only NOT sick, I was insanely happy and had abundant energy.  So I decided to go do some sprints.  I thought it would be fun.  So I ran out to this road by a field that has some good trees as markers, and did sprints.  I’m terrible at sprinting, and I couldn’t do too many before my legs turned to jelly and I knew I would hardly have the energy to walk home. 

I wanted to know how far I had sprinted, though; you know, for record-keeping.  So walking heel-toe-heel-toe, I walked the entire distance of the field to see how many foot-lengths it was, so then I could measure my foot and do the math.  While I was doing this, though, I realize that I looked like an idiot.  Which was okay because no one was coming by.

Then this little girl rode by on her bike.  She was maybe nine or ten, white-blonde hair in braided pigtails and with round glasses that made her eyes look too big for her face.  Cute.  But she gave me the most confused look I have ever been on the receiving end of in my entire life, and I’ve had some confused looks sent my way.   I called out a hello to her, but she kept going.  I was worried she was going to crash her bike into the ditch because she kept swerving to look at me over her shoulder.  Up ahead on the road, coming my direction, she got off her bike to tell whom I can only guess is her brother (they looked JUST alike) about me, and he too gave me a weird look as he passed.

So now all the little children here, who have thus far been very kind to me and conversed occasionally with me when I’m out running, will think I’m crazy.  Great.

For the record, it was 370 footlengths.  And as my foot is about 8.5 inches long, I did eight (that was it! but I was tired; I hadn’t had any protein or carbs to give me energy) sprints for approximately 80meters each, my best time being 18.22 seconds.  It’s going to take some conditioning to get up to 100meters like my goal is. 

But as for goals, by the way, today I did 20 man push ups.  Never in my LIFE have I been able to do push ups.  I started out about a week ago doing girl push ups, but my knees got all bruised when I was biking, so I had to graduate to man push ups.  And today I was successful for a full 20!  I’m so proud of myself, haha.   

It’s a river from here on out

A river of TRAVEL.  As I realize what wheels will be set in motion once I leave for Brussels Friday morning, it’s overwhelming.  From there on out, I will be traveling almost every three days.  Next Thursday we leave for our London excursions, after which I will go directly to Paris and then Milan.  I feel like I won’t get to sleep for the next three months. 

 Did laundry this morning.  In the laundry room, found a 2euro coin, which I feel like was God saying, ‘Oh, stop whining about losing the 2euro already.  Here, I’ve got plenty; have one.”  Or it may have been God’s way of telling me, “PLEASE buy some more socks.”  I had to throw a holey pair away yesterday, and I think a couple may have wandered off.  I brought eight pairs but I believe I’m down to maybe five or six.  I refuse to spend my hard-earned money on socks until I’m forced to alternate pairs every other day.  Then maybe we’ll talk.

I’ve been having strange, extremely vivid dreams lately.  I’m not sure why.  None of them are very good, really, but they aren’t hideous nightmares.  I don’t know.  Maybe it’s travel anxieties messing with my brain.

That said, I’ve got a meeting with some cool kids in 20 minutes to plan our trip to Monaco and Nice, France.  One of my classes got canceled today, but I’ve still got a 4-hour personal essay class (I’m so angry that this class was mislabeled; it’s not “travel writing” it’s “personal essay”; don’t call it “Travel Writing”).  I’d like to go running but don’t know if I’ll have the energy; I only got an hour done yesterday.  Also have to finish a bit of homework for my personal essay class (have I mentioned I hate that class?)

But hey, at least I got my laundry done.  I was quite literally out of pants, socks, and underwear.  Why did I pack so light?  I should have brought more socks, underwear, pants, and my small travel bag.  And my straightener/curler.  And another pair of shoes. 

Why kings and queens had so many servants:

because castles are super creepy when you’re all alone in them.

 Saturday morning I got up bright and early to go into Venlo.  However, I thought Venlo was dumb and boring.  I’m beyond the point where European cities are fun for me simply for the sake of being European.  I want to see their quirks, their personality.  Also I wasn’t feeling good.  In fact, I was feeling so out of it, that after buying some candy to try and pep myself up, I dropped a 2euro coin.  2 euros gone.  That was horrible.

So I gave up, called it quits, and went back to the castle.  Almost 18euro wasted on busfare and candy.  I took a nap and some medicine and got to feeling a little better.  Biked some more and laid outside with some of the other couple kids still here.  Then talked to Nadir on skype for about three hours in the evening, and that may have saved my frame of mind.  It’s amazing what a difference hearing someone’s voice can make,  you know? 

Also got all my hostels booked and I’m almost $500 UNDER budget, which gives me more wiggle room, which is very exciting.  Not to mention, aside from getting everything booked, I’m not only going to see Fidan in Rome, but she’s doing Vienna with me too.  That’s twice in one semester I’ll see her, which is going to be awesome fun.

Today, slept late, then went biking but I just had no energy.  I hate being sick.  So I came back to the room after only an hour and laid out on the lawn doing homework for a couple hours.  It was hot enough that I started to get a headache (oh, and I hadn’t eaten anything all day because I ran out of food and the meermarkt was closed), so went online.  I’ve seriously just been puttering around all day, not really getting anything done.  Which is kinda lame, but whatever.  Starting tomorrow, I won’t get another day of rest until December, so I needed it.

Oh, did I mention someone turned the hormones on for ladybugs?  I was sitting in my windowseat with the window open yesterday because the weather has been fantastic when I suddenly noticed a lot of ladybugs were coming in.  I don’t mean a couple; I mean DOZENS were flying around outside my window.  The crows were going crazy.  I finally had to close my window, but there are still nine ladybugs crawling around the window.

Another random: last night when I went for my evening bike ride, these two men driving old German jeeps from WWII went along the bike trails.  The cars were noisy and clumsy, but the absurdity of it made me laugh like a fool, haha.

Then this morning, after I got up, I knew I had to get coffee.  I didn’t yesterday and think that contributed to my headache.  So I got my coffee from the machine and then sat out on the bridge wall that overlooks the moat.  There are several HUGE fish (catfish and carr) there.  The sun was lovely.  The crows were obnoxious.  The church bell was going crazy (it rings at completely random times for up to seven minutes; I’ve timed it).  And I thought, “Here I am, drinking my coffee in a lonely, empty castle, with all these sensory details going on.  Who does this?”  It was another one of those moments in my life when I’m just genuinely content.

Now today people have returned from their weekend travels, so the castle isn’t so creepy.  I’m no longer the only person on my floor; I get some human contact; I don’t have to sleep with the lights on.  This was my last weekend here until finals in December.  Thank GOODNESS.

Now I have to go meet some cool kids in Sophie’s Lounge for some Ramen Noodles (I missed dinner and only had time to power slam three pieces of toast).  And then I should get some homework done, since I only got three of my seven things done this weekend.  Also, laundry.  I should have brought more socks and underwear.  Oops.

Now some pictures for your viewing pleasure.  Two of these are flickr photos, but I doubt many people here look at my flickr portfolio anyways, so here ya go.

Do you know the way to . . . Venlo?

So Friday.  Borrowing a bike from my dear friend Ashley for the weekend, I decided that this weekend I would just bike around to some bigger towns near Well.  My goal for today was Arcen.

Not knowing in the slightest how to actually get to Arcen, I set off.  Fortunately, Europe is very much in love with bikers, and there are basically bike “roadsigns” everywhere, complete with bikeway numbers.  Unfortunately, as I didn’t learn until time to head back, the numbers are not the same going and coming.  For instance, if you’re going south, you’re on 63.  If you’re going north, you’re on 94, or some crap like that.  Whatever; I thought the bikeway numbers would be all cool and helpful but they really weren’t.

I actually made it to Arcen just fine in about two hours, but I couldn’t figure out where exactly to go, so I wound up just going on through (I did stop by the Castle Arcen) and continued on.  I passed through another town that began with an L (Lungsford? Lilsford? Lingsford? something like that).  I wound up picking up a scenic bikeway and road it for some time until I reached an area where it split four ways.

Here’s where it got tricky.  See, there was this path I REALLY wanted to go on, except it wasn’t really a path, per se.  It was this very small, very tight orchard with a wider row open and a sign that said something about “Verboden Toegang” and had a picture of people walking.  Using my excellent deduction skills, I decipered that horses were not allowed.  However, there was nothing about bikes.  I finally decided to give it a try.

Unfortunately, because it occasionally rains in the Netherlands (ha!), the path was almost entirely mud.  So as I’m pedaling along, I’m sinking deeper and deeper into the mud.  Then suddenly something either snarled or sneezed to my right, and I’m pretty sure I heard something say, “Well, little Rotkappchen, where are you going today and what’s in the backpack?  Might you have an aged relative at the end of this road?”  I yelped, yanked my bike up, and hurried out.

Oh, but this was not my only run-in with a previously-assumed-to-be-fictional character.  While biking through another forest that quite CLOSELY resembles THE Blackforest in Germany (which is not so far from me right now), I was almost positive I heard a hoard of pigeons/crows yelling at me, ‘Ruckideegoo, Ruckidegoo, die Blut in seine Schuh!’  The three bears may have stumbled around in my wake.  Basically, the forests around here all scream fairy tale and you wander around expecting at any moment for a dainty little wood nymph or mischevious sprite to come barging out and ask you to solve a riddle.

Literally, my entire day was dedicated ot biking.  Five and a half hours and five peanutbutter&raspberryjellysandwiches later, I collapsed back at the castle for a really creepy night.  Castles are scary when you’re in them alone at night.

Oh, and totally off subject, but it really is amazing how quickly you begin picking up phrases here and there when you’re thrust into another culture.  For instance, I know that 25% minder vet means “25% less fat”.  Toegang is horses, I believe.  Nonetheless, it is still a comfort when you are riding along, lost as a dazed crow in a dark sky, and you see this:

I’m still not sure what it meant, except the obvious –a wood elf was watching me, saw me beginning to panic, knew I was a Texan, and so posted this to make me feel better.  It worked.  Danku well, little wood elf.

EDIT::  I forgot to mention two very important things.

First, I failed to mention that the bike I borrowed is actually about three inches too tall for me.  I know this doesn’t sound like a lot but trust me and my battered legs, it is.  The old adage that you can’t forget how to ride a bike is WRONG.  I was klutzy as anything when I first got on, and the size issue really didn’t help things.  So not only did I bash my legs on the seats several times trying to get on and off, I also occasionally swerved into things.  Because of this, I have no less than seven sizeable, raised bruises on my legs.

The other thing is that apparently the gnat population sprang to life last night which was unfortunate for my unshielded face.  Constantly I was careening across the road while drying to dig a gnat out of my eye.  My nose was running (I’m sick btw!) so I had to breathe through my mouth; yay, daily protein intake!  It was altogether quite gross, though.

Oh goodness no

The unthinkable has happened.  Well, two unthinkables have happened, actually.

The first is that I believe I officially qualify as sick now.  Which is crummy.  I’m not as bad as others here are, and hopefully won’t be, because my grand bike tour of the Southern Netherlands and Western Germany (just this around round here) begins tomorrow.

The OTHER unthinkable thing that has happened is what we all feared would happen from the very beginning.  Someone has fallen in love with me, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to break their heart.

I went running this morning, per usual.  It was a bit chillier, so I had sweatpants on while I usually run in shorts.  I took the trail that wraps back behind the Castle through some random fields and greenhouses and such.  Along this trail is a field of grazing sheep.  They’re various ages, various colors, and in various stages of regrowing their shorn curls.

But one of them, one of them that I have named Hermes, one of them with a black face and white fur and a black stripe directly down his chest –Hermes has fallen in love with.

How do I know it’s love and not simply a lust, or maybe even a strong like?  Well the first day I ran this path, the sheep scattered at the mere sight of me.  Even Hermes leapt up the bank in order to put another five feet between us as I jogged past to the sound of Guns’n'Roses.  The next day, the sheep ran away a little slower, but they certainly still ran.

Then yesterday, Hermes stood his ground.  He stayed munching the grass at the foot of a gnarled tree, his jaw moving side to side as we made DIRECT eye contact.  He stared long and hard into my eyes, and that’s when I knew he was a goner.  And that such a relationship could never be.

Today I was hesitant to run the same path.  I mean, I’m all for fun and games, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt.  If the sight of me, of knowing he can never have me, hurts Hermes, than I must keep myself from his sight.  But I decided to try it anyways, see if maybe Hermes had moved on to another lover.

Alas, no.  This time, instead of standing his ground, he darted after me for a moment, following me to the far corner of this field –a good five feet from where he started.  When he saw that I saw what he had done, he rolled his eyes away and quickly began munching on grass, trying to look inconspicuous.  But I could feel his eyes on my backside as I continued to jog away.  I knew what he wanted.

I made the loop, and in passing him the second time, saw that Hermes had not moved from his corner, thoguh the rest of the sheep shyed away from him.  Because of his love for me, he’s made himself an outcast to the rest of his flock.  He’s doomed himself to a lonely life.  As much as I admire his dedication, though, I couldn’t bring myself to stay with him simply because I felt bad for him.  That’s a terrible basis for a relationship.  Besides, he’s a sheep and I’m a human.  And I find sheep eyes REALLY creepy.

Fortunately, since I’ll be biking all day every day this weekend,  I won’t be running alongside Hermes’ field again for at least a few days.  Hopefully during that time, he will have had a chance to sort out his feelings, rearrange his priorities, and realize that really, I’m not worth it.  I’m nothing special.  There are plenty of better sheep in the field.  Sheep that are,  you know, actual sheep, same as Hermes.

Oh, it’s a cruel world we live in.

(Two final Amsterdam pictures that only surfaced today.)

(That’s actually what I slept in that night, except I added two more pairs of socks.)

 

(What you don’t know is that there are marijuana planst flourishing in that incubator besides us.)