My Second Day in Austria

We woke up rather latish the next morning, everyone had already been up for hours, and all were in fact gone. I found a note from Jennifer saying she had to run to the school, but she would be back soon with pastries. I made myself a cup of tea, picked a book off the shelf, and settled into the couch with “Eat Pray Love”.

In about half an hour Jennifer returned, and she and I sat at the table and chatted while I sampled the pastries. She is on a raw diet, and thus doesn’t eat such things. Sven wasn’t around as he had taken the first chance he had to put on his raincoat and trudge outside to look for mushroom in the woods that surround the house. He later came back rather wet but happy, pulling a few chanterelles out of his pocket to show us his bounty.

Sometime after 11:00 we went down to the town to pick up Max from school. It was still raining, so when Sven and I were going to watch Max while Jennifer spoke to his teacher we headed over to the Pfleger after picking up some umbrellas from the trunk. In the Pfleger (a café), we ordered coffees and an Austrian pastry and settled into a table. I enjoyed watching Max eat his bread with his rosy cheeks and long lashes, and listening to him finally begin to speak around us with his voice that sounds so deep, loud and clear for his six years. In fact, his and his sister’s voices are quite striking in unique in those qualities, and their unique stressing of certain syllables. They sound very similar to each other. Anyway, after we finished up we went back past the big beige church with its terracotta colored roof and clock tower to the school to wait for Jennifer. Max had fun splashing around in the puddles. When she came out a few minutes later, Nicole was done too and all got in the car and went back to the house. As soon as we pulled up Nicole and Sven excitedly ran off into the woods to look for big parasol mushrooms of the area.

{Parasol Mushrooms}

Meanwhile, Jennifer and I prepped chicken schnitzel, roasted potatoes (from Jennifer’s garden) with rosemary and carrots, and a big salad full of delicious vegetables. I did the schnitzel, first coating the pounded breasts with flour, then dipping them in beaten egg, coating them in breadcrumbs with lemon zest and finally sliding them into the hot oil.

We added the chopped dark green pumpkin seeds of the region to the breadcrumbs for the schnitzels Sven and I were going to eat. When it was all done, we sat down to our meal. If you will remember, this is the main meal of the day, so we sat down to our plates with gusto. Georg was working, so it was the five of us. It was delicious, crispy and succulent, and the pumpkin seeds added a nice rich nutty flavor. The salad tasted so good, and it felt so good too. It included the local pumpkin seed oil as well.

After lunch I felt so full I felt like I just wanted to take a nap and fall asleep. However, I read a bit and later emerged from the bedroom to workout with Jennifer. Now, Jennifer is both a kickboxing and yoga instructor, and she has always been the one in the best shape of anyone I knew personally. Its true. Whenever she came to visit, or when I visited her, she would teach us a kickboxing class and work our asses into shape. I mean, I worked out all spring and many mornings of the summer in anticipation of working out with Jennifer. However, the last month in Belgium had taken its lazy toll, despite the walking and few morning runs I had taken. As I knew it would. I wasn’t dreading working out though (okay, maybe a teensy tiny bit), but really, I was very much looking forward to exercising my body again. So, back to the living room in a house on a hill overlooking the town of Semriach. She turned on some electronic music, and we got to business. We did a short but tough workout of repetitions of exercises in the plank position, as well as lunge kicks, and a scissoring abs section. Each exercise lasted around 40 seconds before moving directly into the next. It was hard work, but man it felt so good.

After we worked out, we all piled in the car to go “shopping”. This included driving down the hill through the light rain to the egg lady, to buy fresh eggs while the kids tried to play with the chickens, and then down the road to the cheese lady to buy a fresh brick of mild cheese. On the way back I enjoyed talking to the kids about bears and mountain lions while I sat between them. I thought it was sweet how Max would lean his head on my shoulder.

For dinner we had the traditional meats, cheese, breads, vegetables and beer. I love it. The cheese was great too, simple flavor, but it doesn’t kill you with rich triple cream-ness. We talked about Bavarians and Oktoberfest and such things. Then I was off to bed. 

First Day in Austria

We got up at 5 am to get ready to go to the airport. We were already packed, so we just had to get dressed, gather the last few things, and eat breakfast. We each had eggs and toast as Francoise’s parents drank coffee, and Francoise herself called to say they had landed and they were all there, so I got to say hi to my Dad. Then we went out to the car, and we said our goodbyes with smiles on our faces and set off into the dark morning to the airport in Brussels.

On the way, we listened to various radio stations, mainly sticking to a classic American and English rock station, with a few Flemish news stations thrown into the mix for entertainment. We hit traffic as we knew we would, and escaped it with the help of Sven’s GPS as he had the day before. We made it to the airport with plenty of time, and even after we had made it through the long and stressful security (no need to be felt down this time), we still had two hours or so before we boarded.

Finally we got onto the airplane. It was a pleasant flight when we took off, with nice stewardesses who served us all free sandwiches despite it only being an hour and a half flight. They also offered tea, coffee, apple juice, and wine. Both colors. And for free. I’ve never seen that before. Quite a few took the opportunity and were served a nice big helping. I myself had apple juice, but still. I’d heartily recommend Austrian Airlines again, it was great.

When we got off the plane we only had hand luggage so we went straight to the bus shuttle to the airport. It took us a bit to figure out which one we were supposed to wait for, but we ended up on the right one rather quickly. We peered interestedly out the window as we drove through Vienna, knowing that’s all we were going to see of it this trip. Some parts reminded us curiously of San Francisco, and I felt a small longing for my hometown again. I quickly moved on however, as the present was much more interesting than dwelling on such thoughts.

After about 20 minutes we arrived at the station. We were both thirsty, and I was craving what has become one of my European addictions: Fanta. Strange huh? Its better over here though, it’s a natural looking muted orange color, not that neon chemically stuff in the states. Its sparkly, sweet, and citrusy, and oh so delicious when you’re thirsty. Anyway, after we figured out how to buy our tickets and asked an employee of the station which train we were supposed to take, I settled down on a bench with our two backpacks and the red carryon case around me while Sven ran over to the nearby grocery store to get beverages. While he was gone the train arrived, but we had plenty of time. When we boarded the train towards Maribor (which would drop us off in Graz), we discovered that it was just like those trains in the movies that people are always traveling on in Europe. I’d never been in one before, so it was quite fun. We walked past compartment after compartment, most with only one or two people, looking for an empty one but not finding one. Eventually we slid open the door of a compartment containing a jolly round twenty-something Austrian girl with dyed dark hair and a cell phone in her hand. We didn’t exchange any words, but communicated with gestures and she made room for us. She had sunglasses on, but whenever I looked over, she was always watching.

After I had documented our compartment with pictures and the train pulled away from the station, Sven and I played hangman. Eventually the girl got off at a station not so far away, and we had the compartment to ourselves for the rest of the journey. It was around 3 hours, and it was a beautiful trip. After awhile, we began to climb into the mountains, twisting and turning around the sides of the hill, ducking into long dark tunnels, and chugging past green hillsides and quaint tidy towns and green forests. We crossed over countless tall pretty stone bridges from which we had lovely views of the valleys and towns below. 

It was so beautiful, it is so beautiful. We ate the rest of our sandwiches that we had made the night before, and Sven fell asleep. I listened to music on my Zune as I watched the countryside pass by, and eventually we passed into wispy overcast weather, and finally into rainy Graz. We packed up our stuff and got off the train.

In the station it took us a while to figure out how to call Jennifer, the country codes and “00’s” are so hard to understand. We were alternately frustrated, exasperated, and confident that ultimately it would all work out, and then finally greatly relieved when I heard Jennifer’s voice responding “Mallie” through the payphone. While we waited we enjoyed an espresso and a big beer, and then we went and waited outside.

It felt so good to see Jennifer crossing over to the sidewalk with her kids alongside of her, in all her tall blonde beauty with her sunshine smile. It felt so good to hug someone, not the kissing-but-no-body-contact greeting of Europeans, but a real hug. She gave me a bouquet of white roses, and Sven some pastries. I tried to say hi to the kids, Nicole and Max, but they were quite shy and silent. They were so beautiful though. We put our stuff in the car and piled in. We made a quick stop to the Inter Spar, being a big grocery store, before heading to Semriach. At the store, we got a few items such as meat from the meat counter, and we conversed excitedly. Its been 4 years since the last time I was here, and it seems like both a long and a short amount of time. There was so much to say, to know, to learn about each other.

The drive back to Semriach was beautiful, set in tones of green, grey, and brown, dotted with the tidy houses of yellows, pinks, whites, blues. We stopped in at Georg’s office to say hi and so he could explain to us what his new business is. Its an energy saving business, and it seems like a great idea. I hope it takes off, it seems like it would do very well.

The kids stayed at the office with Georg, and we went up the hill to the house to unload and make dinner. Their house, built in the typical Austrian style, has command of an extraordinary view over looking the valley in which the town of Semriach rests. If you buy a postcard of the town, you can see their house overlooking the town from its perch at the top of a green hill, nestled at the tree line. It’s just beautiful.

We carried our stuff upstairs and got settled in. Back downstairs in the little kitchen, Jennifer offered us some beer and she poured herself some wine. The beer was Puntigamer, a nice drinking beer that comes in ½ liter bottles, quite a bit bigger than a normal American bottle. We prepped veggies and put out meats, cheeses and breads. Here in Austria, the big meal of the day is lunch, which to me makes sense. I mean, you’ve already been up doing things, and then after you eat your big meal, you still have the rest of your day. Its not like you’re going to bed with a stomach weighted down with rich food that is just going to languish there the whole night. I mean, it makes sense right? The traditional dinner here is meat and cheese, just a light meal before bed.

When it was ready and on the table, Georg and the kids arrived and we all sat down and ate. It was a pleasant meal. The cheese was a mild cheese with nettles in it, which was quite tasty on the rich dense brown bread. There was also a bit of a local cheese too, which was good. Then there were salamis, ham with the local pumpkin seeds on top, and the cured meat we had gotten earlier.

After dinner Jennifer brought us down to the sauna in the basement of the house, saying “enjoy yourselves” as she left us at the wooden door. It was only Sven and I that night, and its heat was delicious. It seeped into my bones, and filled me with warmth. We only stayed 15 minutes, just enough for the sweat to dew up on my skin, but not enough for the sweat to pour off of me. I sank happily into bed afterwards. 

The Last Day of the First Leg

(A post I started a couple of days ago...)

And so today is the last day of the first leg of my journey. It was the last day for 4 of our number, they left early this morning to return back to California. Sven is still here with me, and for him, it’s the midway point of his trip. How fast time flies when you are having fun. I feel like it was just a few days ago that I was sitting on the couch in the little house on the coast of California, writing “12 days” until we left for Europe, and now whooosh, a month has passed. Now we are sitting here in the little TV room, watching a French architectural show. A little fire is going, and everyone is reclining drowsily, tired from waking up early and the emotional fatigues of the day.

Tomorrow we leave for Austria. We will land in Vienna (Wien) and then we will hop on the train to go to Graz. There we will be picked up by our friend to go to her home in a small town about half an hour away.

We have had some exceptional meals of late, but that almost goes without saying. We have been incredibly spoiled here in Belgium, with delicious meal after delicious meal. Its been so fun to eat here. Two nights ago, we had mussels. Now, mussels is a food that the Belgians have entirely adopted as their own, and we were laughed at when we said that we’d had mussels before in America. After eating Belgian mussels, I still can’t entirely agree with them, but I will admit that mussels in Belgium is a delicious and lavish experience. 

Francoise’s mother first soaked the mussels in water three separate times. I’m not sure exactly what this did, but I’m entirely willing to trust her that it’s the thing to do with mussels, no questions asked. I don’t even care, I’d rather know the precise amount of time they soaked, and the precise amount of time they cooked for. She cooked them in white wine, onions, celery and carrots until they were just cooked. She kept the lid on them on the table until she served them, so they were steaming hot. 

She heaped big piles of the mussels in our bowls, pouring a ladle full of the delicious broth over them. With the mussels, we had frites and a Namur Blanche beer. It was a feast for kings. We all had 3 bowls of mussels each, reveling in their sweet, wine-soaked saltiness, drinking the broth with spoons, and dipping the crispy frites in homemade mayonnaise. The beer was a tad sweet, but it was tasty of course. Mmm. We filled a trash can full of shells. 

From Belgian Woods to Dinner Party Table

 

{Actually, of these we only ate the ones on the left, thankfully}

The last few days have been very fun, very full and rich with experiences. I have felt very happy, and very actually here for the first time. There are oh so many stories that I wish to share with you, and I couldn’t keep myself away from writing at least a few of them.

After weeks of being in beautiful old cities and surrounded by cobblestones and brick, it felt like a wonderful and much needed escape to go mushroom hunting with Michel-Marie and Chantal on Thursday. Just stepping out of the car into the wet air and smelling the rich smell of the woods across the road made us feel like fish re-immersed in water after a long and adventurous trip into the air. It felt like home, and we could feel it rejuvenating us as we drifted into the woods, away from cars and buildings.

 It was a dark cloudy day, and the woods were beautiful with a thick mossy floor in parts. There was no underbrush to speak of, and we could see mushrooms everywhere. Before we knew which ones were ones we wanted to keep, we asked Michel-Marie or Chantal about the various kinds we found. The first, and most plentiful, kind of bolete we found was one with a very viscous cap that isn’t actually very good to eat. They were all over. There were other kinds that were big and healthy and in abundance, but they also weren’t what we were looking for, so we roamed around, gradually accumulating the delicious types of boletes. We had a great time, even when it started raining. I had it the best, as I had run back to the car at the beginning to retrieve my raincoat before we really got walking. Everyone else, however, was not so well prepared. Chantal was wearing a chic leather jacket, Francoise had on a cute but hoodless jacket, and the others were similarly adorned. Thus, when it really started coming down, we started heading for the car at a swift pace. When Chantal suggested “on court?” I instantly agreed, and we set off running gleefully down the hill to the car. Even so, we were all quite wet but happy when we climbed into the van.

After the first spot, we went to other places. Jan found a nice big bolete, and I could tell he was in heaven out there, looking for mushrooms. Michel-Marie said it was “like a little orgasm”, spotting a mushroom when you are really into it. We all laughed. We also tried a chanterelle spot, but they weren’t on at the time, but the sun shone through at that point so we didn’t mind, it was so beautiful.

We ended the trip with a nice picnic of roasted chicken, gouda and baguettes. Both parties brought chicken, ours was roasted in a pan with lemon and garlic, and Michel-Marie’s was a smoked chicken fresh roasted that day. Both were delicious. 

We spent a little time exploring the town of Spa (the original Spa) before returning home. Three of us went out for a beer at a café in Huy, which we greatly enjoyed. I had a Kwak, which came in this highly unique glass. You have to be very careful when drinking out of it however, or you might end up with beer all down your front.

However, I deviate from the tale of the mushrooms. Most of them went back with Michel-Marie and Chantal to be brought to the dinner party the following evening, and we brought a few back with us to have a little taste.

It was at the dinner party on Friday evening that the mushrooms had the end to their story, and what an ending! We had spent the afternoon taking a little jaunt to Germany, returning around 6ish due to traffic to get ready. We all dressed up a bit more than we had since coming to Europe, and it was fun to get ready for the dinner. I get an added sense of pleasure from being up here in the attic, listening to Billie Holiday while I take a sponge bath in the sink, put on makeup and choose my clothes. It’s a little difficult to do the latter, however, as there are no full length mirrors. I have to move from one mirror that shows the lower half of my body to another on the other wall to see the upper half, but its not so bad.

Finally we were all dressed and ready, and we got back into the car. We arrived quite late and it seemed everyone had already been there for a while, judging from the happy buzz people exuded while holding their glasses of wine, chatting with one another. A cheerful hubbub ensued due to our arrival, and we kissed cheeks, exchanged greetings and names. There were a range of people there, some of whom I had never met before, some who I hadn’t seen since the last time I was here when I was 17, and also those who I had seen yesterday. It was a fun and raucous few minutes, with lots of laugher and talking. I eventually made my way into the kitchen where I found more people hanging out, though less than in the living room. Even in a strange house, more times than not I feel a sense of comfort in being in the kitchen. I suppose a little part of me feels at home there. Also I suppose there is another language to the kitchen that goes beyond French or English. I had fun conversing a bit with Genevieve, who was very cheerful and positively radiant, chatting away about her love of True Blood—a mutual love. I felt quite at home.

I spent much of the time before dinner there in the kitchen, and we watched as Michel-Marie prepared the boletes and the other mushrooms we had gathered the day before. When Sven (whom I have hitherto called Jan) mentioned that he had seen a big puff ball mushroom across the road, he was immediately dispatched to retrieve it. He swiftly achieved his mission, and though the first giant mushroom was too old, the next was nice and fresh. Michel-Marie dipped the slices into egg and then breadcrumbs with garlic powder before sautéing them in a pan. The proffered pieces of crispy golden brown mushrooms were quite delicious, with a nice texture that maintained its shape, but was curiously soft in a dense way without being mushy. The boletes too were excellent, and I liked how they were spicy too. 

{The Puffball Mushroom}

In the beginning, I had had a short debate with myself about whether or not I was going to take pictures or simply enjoy myself. The former didn’t put up enough of a fight, and I settled into talking, observing, sipping and relating. However, when the mushrooms were assembled in the pan, I was made aware that for the first time my blog had somehow preceded me. Paris, our host for the evening, told me I must take a picture for my blog! I was quite shocked, as this hadn’t happened to me before. However, I happily complied, and now here I am, writing away and very grateful that I had the pictures that you are now able to enjoy along with this description. It was a fun experience.

The dinner itself was immensely pleasing in its simplicity, unadorned with the richness of creams and fats in their many forms that have become such an insistent ingredient in the many meals we have eaten to date. It was very refreshing. We were all seated at a long table, as there were around 17 or so of us. We were served pasta with cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, and very thin slices of ham out of a gorgeous Moroccan wood bowl, which we enjoyed with a glass of wine and fun company. It was a great party, and I enjoyed myself immensely. 

A Traditional Liege Culinary Experience: The Friterie

I know I must seem neglectful, but life has been a whirlwind here, and for the moment I’m trying to spend less time on the computer, and more time actually being here. At some point I promise I will get around to writing about Venice, but I can’t tackle summing up all the many wonderful experiences we had there right now.  That said, I feel I absolutely must write about our trip to the friterie the other night, as I was informed that it is a very traditional Belgian experience.

The other night we were at the apartment of old friends of my friend from when she still lived in Belgium. Before we arrived we had been running late while at the mall, so we stopped by at the Carrefour (very similar to Target) and bought a tarte (the Belgian equivalent of a pie in terms of hosting and visiting). When we arrived and kissed each other (just one on their right cheek) I handed the tart to MM, who looked at me in mock surprise and asked if it was an American gift, to which I exclaimed “of course not!” He smiled and took the tarte into the kitchen. Later we all sat down in the little kitchen and we saw the gorgeous tartes he had just baked himself, and I understood why he made the joke about the tarte we had brought with us, as his homemade ones seemed to be an entirely different species of dessert. One was an apple tarte, with thin slices of apples sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, and the other was a juicy plum tart. Both looked scrumptious. 

{The Prune Tarte is on the left, and the Apple one is on the right, with the Carrefour tarte in the back as you can see}

I had a slice of the apple tarte, it was even better than it looked. It was still slightly warm, and underneath the slices on top that still maintained their shape were more apples that were much softer and that were sweet, warm and slightly caramely tasting on top of the delicious crumbly crust. Mmmm.

Later I tried a little bite of the plum one, which was nice and tart with whole halves of plums lightly sweetened. Very tasty.

After much debate about what we were going to do about feeding ourselves in the evening as the stores had already closed, we decided to go to a friterie. We’d been wanting to do this the whole trip, so we were very excited about it. We all piled in our rental van, and drove down the road to a cute little square in the nearby town of Tilff. Inside it was quaint and rather homey, with rows of gleaming copper pots on the walls and a stuffed rabbit on the wall with a little stick over its should and a handkerchief sack on the end. 

We ordered Hoegaardens with a slice of lemon in them, as MM told us it was “an experience”.  Soon after, our incredibly sweet waitress brought our plates of “boules” with a rabbit sauce and a little salad on the side. The boules were large Belgian meatballs, and were quite tasty. A big stainless steel bowl was brought with the frites, and we all helped ourselves, dipping the crispy potatoes into the rabbit sauce.

It was quite tasty, and a perfect Belgian evening. We finished it off with a walk along the river in the dark, under the weeping willows, laughing and talking in a mixture of the two languages. 

Amsterdam Round 2

We got up relatively early the next morning, got ready, packed a backpack with our lunch, grabbed our raincoats and set off to do a round of museums. On our way we stopped at a little bakery for a loaf to go with our cheese and salami. Around the corner from the bakery we discovered a market happening in the street, so we decided to check it out. We didn’t get very far before it began to thunder ominously, shortly followed by the addition of lightning and a sudden downpour. We ducked into a stall selling baked goods, and Jan got a pastry and I got a muffin. Then we darted back out into the rain and ran over to the first café we saw. There we ate our breakfast with a coffee and watched a beach party on the TV. We left when it cleared up, which wasn’t too long.

The first item on our itinerary was the Rembrandt Museum. Previous to our arrival, I hadn’t known that the museum was actually his house, but it was a pleasant surprise when I got there. It ended up being  a wonderful museum, and I greatly enjoyed it. It was nice and small, no wait at all, and we were given a free audio tour through the house. Evidently Rembrandt had become bankrupt at the end of his life and so the city had taken a very precise account of everything within his house, which the museum had sought out and restored as much as possible to what it had been like when he lived there. The first room we saw was probably not in the house at all, but was a little room whose sole purpose was to showcase two paintings. One was a religious theme, but the other was absolutely amazing. It was a still life of ceramics highlighted with a touch of light. Beneath the painting was the actual objects Rembrandt had used as his subject, yet they paled in comparison to the breathtaking beauty and perfection that they attained in Rembrandt’s work. The painting gave them so much more dimension and reality as to make the ceramics in the painting more real than the objects themselves. It was incredible. It was such a great experience, especially because we weren’t crowded by other viewers, it was almost us alone with the painting, and we could enjoy it at our leisure.

{A Poor Attempt to Capture the Painting}

From there we moved on to the kitchen, the entry hall, the guest room, the printing room, the living room, Rembrandt’s room and more. Of course, my favorite was Rembrandt’s studio. It was something to be there, to know that’s where he painted, and to know that it was those windows and that same light that streamed through them that was the lighting that illuminated his subjects for his paintings. It was a moment to savor.

After the Rembrandt museum we moved on to Van Gogh. Between the two we took a little break back at the apartment to enjoy our lunch of bread, cheese and sausage. Together they were all delicious, especially washed down with glasses of Leffe tripel.

 I enjoyed the Van Gogh museum too, but it wasn’t quite as enjoyable due to the masses of tourists crowding every painting (I mean, who doesn’t wish they were the only tourist around?). Also I had liked how Rembrandt’s was about it being his house, and not just a typical museum. Van Gogh’s colors were incredible, vivid, fun and unique. There were a couple paintings that I had to re-visit before we left the building, they made such an impression on me.

The rest of the afternoon and evening we spent exploring and re-visiting areas of downtown.  For dinner we enjoyed schwarma and falafel, eating the tasty food right on the corner of the street, watching bikes pass, people sitting outside the cafes, and the boats passing on the canal.

We had a fun time in Amsterdam, though we were happy to return to Belgium and our friends the next day. Amsterdam is a great city, though sadly I cannot call it a culinary must-visit. The art alone however  (not even counting the beautiful architecture, canals, bridges, and women) makes it a worthy destination. 

{and did I mention the clouds are amazing?}

Amsterdam

Once again, my apologies for falling so far behind! I just got back from Venice, and have been too busy to write. I will try to catch up as best I can.

Jan and I took the train to Amsterdam the Friday before last, and we stayed until Sunday. It was the 3^rd country Jan has been to. We took the train from Huy in the morning, getting a cup of coffee at the station while we waited. The first two trains were quite short, the first to Liege, and the next to Maastricht. The Liege train station was beautiful, with great white bars forming a curved white ceiling. We had no problems with our trains, and we sat on the top floor of the 2 ½ hour train ride from Maastricht to Amsterdam. We flew by fields of green dotted with black spotted white cows and white sheep. We saw industrial towns and picturesque windmills. Jan slept while I wrote in my journal. When he woke we ate our simple lunch of bread and cheese and chocolate.

Finally we began to pass through the outskirts of Amsterdam. I crammed everything into my bag, and then we stepped onto the Amsterdam Central station. It was packed with people, and huge. There was an absolute frenzy which didn’t abate when we exited the station. People were crowding the crosswalks and the walk ways, and there were great masses of bikes upon bikes upon bikes parked next to the station. It was overcast when we arrived, though that didn’t lessen out excitement at seeing the grandness of the outside of the station, or the canal in front of us. Tourists crammed the streets till I only felt I was really seeing the city when I was standing inside a tram, looking out the window at the passing architecture and thousands of people of all nations. The architecture of the buildings lining the streets was old and beautiful. The great leafy trees and the stone sidewalks charmed me, and I longed to set my heavy backpack down somewhere and begin to wander the streets and the canals. We found our bed and breakfast relatively easily, a pleasant little studio across from Osterpark. There we appeased our aching backs, as our pleasant hostess gave us the quick details of the city and the neighborhood, gave us the keys, and left us alone. We changed, sent off a quick e-mail telling our friends in Belgium we had arrived safely, and set off to catch the tram back downtown.  

On the way to the tram, we had to avoid the whizzing bikers who paid no attention to us poor pedestrians. We quickly learned about the bike lanes that took up a good share of the sidewalk and equally as much to avoid them. As we walked, our heads were turned many a time by tall gorgeous women with long blond hair pedaling away. I had never seen so many!

We got off the tram a bit outside the downtown, and plunged in. By that time it had become sunny, andwe explored both wide busy streets and quiet little alleyways. We found a great little cheese shop filled with great wheels of cheese all the way to the ceiling. We had been told (which was also a warning) that the only good food we would find in Amsterdam was their gouda, and thus we knew we had to buy one. We ended up buying a tasty little handmade farmer’s gouda spiced with pepper and mustard seeds, as well as a dutch salami. We left happy with our purchases, and as we were hungry, we decided to explore with the intent of finding lunch.

With that intention in mind, we walked and walked. We saw many sights, so many buildings, streets, canals, pretty bridges, boats, bikes, tourists, café’s full of tourists drinking beer, we saw policemen in their boats, great grand squares, buildings leaning over and crooked from age, cute boutiques and big department stores. We stopped at numerous menu’s placed outside of restaurants, but I always said, the next one will be the right one. There just wasn’t anything that appealed, even as hungry as I was. So we continued to walk. We ended up eating at a place we had looked at 2 hours before, a little pub alongside a canal. We ordered beers and bitterballen until they reopened the kitchen for dinner. The waiter informed us they were traditional dutch, fried on the outside with “cow” in the middle. They arrived on a pretty little platter, and they were indeed fried little round things, but when you bit into them it was more like gravy on the inside. They were quite strange indeed. 

For dinner we got hamburgers, which were actually quite interesting as the meat was spiced like sausage. They weren’t bad at all, but it was a bit funny to look for so long and the most appealing thing was a burger.

We left the pub a little tipsy from Westmalle tripels (a Belgium trappist beer).  It was still sunny outside, so we walked some more. We explored the Chinatown and the red light district with its red windows and women of all shapes, sizes and colors in skimpy lingerie, primping in the mirrors in their cubicle, or gazing out at the passing crowd. It was very strange.

We had a grand time walking and taking breaks to have a beer at some cute little café and then venturing off to walk some more. We finally made our way back to our little apartment and fell happily and wearily into bed.