Netherlands

Two days were allotted to catch the tulips. I spent one day cycling amongst the blooms and one day in the city of Leiden touring.

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Today started yesterday upon boarding the flight in Denver bound for Keflavik airport in Iceland. My window seat necessitated the man in the aisle set to rise and let me pass. His name turned out to be Agust.

Agust reminded me of my father over six feet tall with his pale soft skin, playing chess on his phone, an appeasing manner, a PhD in nuclear engineering, large club like fingers almost chubby and a large barrel chest. His shoes were my first clue of his being Icelandic. They were heavy and dark with a wide toe box and large welt. He was friendly with light blue eyes, a mustache, long hair bangs swept to the right to keep it out of his eyes. A professor teaching sustainable energy at the university in Reykjavik he was returning from visiting his son earning a graduate degree from Rice University in Houston combined with a visit to Colorado.

Conversation focused on Iceland. He encouraged me to visit the northwest peninsula and to rent a 4-wheel drive car to facilitate crossing swollen creeks. Camping should be done in designated sites. Iceland's population of 350k is strained with over 1 million visitors each year.

People pitching tents on private land has become a problem because of the waste. You can pull over in your car anywhere to a rest. He also recommended seeing the southeast and east coastlines which, with a little walking, would leave the crowds behind.

In the spring, Icelandics celebrate by cleaning out the food cupboard. One of the more unusual foods they (may) eat is pickled whale blubber. Agust assured me that Icelandics do not hunt whale, but, traditionally, would reap the benefit of a whale washed up on the shore. Agust shared that he preferred Rocky Mountain Oysters to pickled blubber. He described the taste as fishy and, well, I'd just have to try it.

The business class seat on Icelandair do not fully recline and lack a foot rest, but they are wide and comfortable. The meal was excellent. I had salmon and a salad that marveled some of the best in a nice restaurant. Although not advisable, a glass of Tempranillo wine can be bottomless.

The several days prior to departure I'd been adjusting my sleep pattern to approach the European time zone. So by the time I'd finished dinner two hours into the flight I was ready for sleep. And sleep I did though a few times I awake to observe the beautiful sky. The sun eventually set in the west then skirted the northern horizon with merely a band of gold and dark blue until lighting the eastern horizon in an emerging dawn. Sunrise never arrived for me as the plane dropped through the clouds landing into a gray cloud covered Keflavik airport the volcanic earth clearly identifiable from the airplane window.

A trip altering few words were soon to be delivered. Iceland is part of the Schengen Area of the European Union (EU). The Schengen Area includes those countries whose members may travel freely without a passport. Agust had shared that Iceland is not a full economic member to avoid fishing quota restrictions, but is a Schengen member. (The things we learn exploring beyond ourselves and pushing our boundaries.) What this meant is that upon entering Iceland you are entering the European Union and must pass through customs. The good news here means you can put the passport away for onward travels to the continent. All this sank into my consciousness as I handed my passport to the customs officer after a ten minute queue. She smiled asked if I was traveling alone and how long did I plan to be visiting. I responded, 'about four months.' Her smile rapidly transitioned into a deep concerned look and she informed me that a tourist may only visit the EU for a total of 90 days over the next 180 day period that starts upon entry and that one does NOT want to violate that rule. I said 'thank you' with the sinking feeling that I was doing something terribly wrong.

I found the Saga lounge upstairs in the airport and began to explore the implications of that news. I remember reading the travel restrictions as an American to the EU, but as my excitement grew about the places to visit and the desire to put certain events of the past year behind me, I seem to have conveniently forgotten this very important tidbit. Over the next day the internal voice labeling me as a criminal needed squelching. This was day one with 89 days to visit remaining. So some plans needed revision to reduce my visit days to under 90. I could return to the US though unappealing. Aww! The folks in the UK decided against their best interest and exited the EU! The UK not on my list of places to visit this trip suddenly moved to the top of the list. And in turns out Turkey is part of the EU, but not part of the Schengen Area agreement. Visiting Turkey doesn't count against my days in the EU. Only two reservations needed canceling. Cinque Terre, more Alp time and Germany will have to wait for another trip.

On the flight from Keflavik to Amsterdam I sat next to a Canadian on his way to attend a Heavy Metal convention. Who knew such things existed. Obtaining my checked bag I looked to exchange some currency to Euros. I'm done with exchanging cash. The exchange rate was predatory. (I later swapped it back at no further charge.) The next step involved finding transportation to the Stayokay accommodations outside of Noordwijk. Rome2rio, Google maps and Apple maps all provided different methods using public transportation. And they all conflicted with the instructions obtained while in Colorado. Finding the location to catch the bus ('es) at Schipol became futile as none of the posted schedules on the monitor screens at the bus stations included the bus line numbers I needed. Giving up on the bus route options, the route departing Schipol on the train was selected. That method yielded good results. The ticket was easy to purchase using the automated system (and yes Evelyn, I found the button for english!). It did require a wait of 30 minutes after exiting the train. The bus that arrived reported one bus number I needed on the front and an out-of-service notice on the side. Fortunately I asked the driver and he confirmed the bus was in-service. The process for paying on the buses is both flexible and confusing with all being new. A transit card is best, but really intended for folks using it frequently. A 'tap' to purchase credit card works as does a regular credit card. It's necessary to 'tap' the transit card or credit card entering AND EXITING. After learning by reading, watching others, and over hearing conversations, the 'tap' credit card proved an easy method. The walk from the bus to Stayokay took 30 minutes and a little over 1 mile passing several fields of flowers with their fragrant aromas.

The Stayokay has rooms set up as a hostel, but I had an entire room to myself with six beds. The place was mostly occupied by young families with small children. It's about a half mile as the crow flies from the shoreline and further than that to actually access the beach. I contemplated going to the beach this night, but a dinner of pizza and beer along with I don't know what consumed the evening.

The pre-time-change-adjustment strategy is working magnificently. No jet lag or crazy sleep patterns for this traveler despite crossing 8 time zones!

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Coffee using the Aeropress started the day. Hot tap water doesn't suffice and won't be done again. I walked the 2 miles into the nearby town of Noordwijkhort (sp). Young children played in the school yard when I passed at 9:15AM. A small white church with a tall steeple sits at the center surrounded by petite shops forming a square. The Dutch, unlike Americans, seem to start their days toward mid-day - very little was open. The biggest missing for me was that all the places that serve coffee didn't appear to open until 11AM! A wife and husband team operating a small fruit shop was open and precisely offered what I hungered for breakfast. The overtly friendly guy at the Van Dam bike shop turned out to be the owner along with his brother. One brother sells bikes in the front facing the square and the second rents them them in the back on the carpark. One wonders if a friendly or not so competition exists between the two. The family shop has been in business for over 100 years. I saw their bikes all day long everywhere I rode. They are ubiquitous. The one I ordered online from the states felt brand new. A bright orange seven speed upright center drop frame with lights that came on automatically. The price online was 18euro compared to 50euro should they be rented at the Stayokay. So the tradeoff was a 4mile walk (out and back) to save 32euro. Gladly I didn't know they were available at the Stayokay.

Spoken languages defaults almost always to English. I didn't meet a Dutch who could not converse with me. If another patron spoke French or German or some other language, they almost always ended up speaking English to each other. Agust, the Icelandic guy I met, shared this same observation in Iceland. If two people's native tongue was different, they switched to English. He shared that the Polish people immigrating to Iceland don't speak english, so the Pole struggles along in Icelandic and the Iceland person exercises patience. He told me that Icelandic is similar to both Norwegian and Dutch. Discovery all this, I stopped being shy about having to speak english. Interestingly, the French seem to struggle the most with English. Not all the French speak it like the Dutch. I suspect the language card will be more difficult elsewhere across Europe.

Off I rode with a nice foldout bike route from the Van Dam smiling owner. My first stop was back at Stayokay to grab my gloves. April temperatures in the morning chill a person! I saw a temperature sign reporting 6ºC which struck as a bit low even though I bundled up. The sun broke though the clouds toward noon and the temperatures responded by rising.

Next stop took me through a birch forest parallel and inside the dunes of the beach. So many birds sang. Paths could be found for horseback riding, walking, or cycling. My route took me past a marine radio tower that was strictly off limits before I arrived at the Noordwijk beach. The massive carpark along with scooter and bike parking implied the place is packed during the summer. Today not so much. Just a handle of each along with a strange massive fat tire 'ducky' type vehicle used for tourists. There was a guy operating an unusual vehicle with a big rotating brush on it for clearing sand off the paths. With the bike locked I walked through the massive dune to see the beach with its small waves and evidence of a lower tide. People flew kites and had I not planned to see fields of tulips would have much enjoyed doing the same in the steady breeze.

Leaving the beach the path returned me to the adjacent ecosystem of birch tree forest. A group of cyclists stopped and obstructed the path. Negotiating around them I looked over my shoulder and spied why they's stopped - two male reindeer with nice antlers sitting about 20 meters from the path! Hmph, that deserved a photo! I had joked with the bike owner upon seeing the brochure with an image of reindeer if it was guaranteed I'd see some. He said, 'guaranteed' and I just chuckled to myself. But here they were. And I would see many more before passing through the birch forest into the fields of houses and tulips.

The flower fields began in earnest near the 'Tulip Experience'. I chose not to go in to see the history museum and looked at the outside tulips from across the fence. I continued along the brochure path along with many other cyclists stopping periodically to enjoy the aromas and the fields of white, purple, red, orange, and yellow flowers along the small lanes.

Many of the roads I found myself on consisted of two dashed lines on each side of the road about 3 feet from the edge of the pavement and a center 'lane' about 1-1/2 car widths wide. The area from the dash lines to the edge of the pavement is for the bikes. The center 'lane' is for the cars. This creates a level of cooperation and patience that might befuddle most US drivers I suspect. It almost as if the cars have been allowed to drive on a bike path. The cars must yield to the bikes and negotiate with the oncoming cars. It worked surprisingly well for us bikers! The system of pedestrian sidewalks, bike lanes, car roads, bus lanes, and roundabouts at first new and confusing constructs a marvel of efficiency. Signage helps throughout it. I passed on round circle sign with two bikes facing the same direction. Peddling along I came to interpret the sign to mean both sides of the bike lane were to going the same direction. Shortly thereafter a cyclist coming at me let it known that was the case; I turned around. The roundabouts work well because car drivers signal their intention so as a pedestrian or cyclist you don't have to guess what their going to do. I never saw a car that didn't yield.

My brochure bike route took me past the Flower Barn and the Keukenhof. Thankfully I'd visited the Keukenhof on a previous trip. The carpark was massive - I mean massive. The rows of bikes and scooters was a sight. I came by bus the last time and maybe I missed all this, but - wow - it must have been packed with people inside. I did very much enjoy the previous visit. The flower gardens they have on display are breathtaking. Today, I was happy to pedal past it all. Instead I stopped for a late lunch at a very slight hilltop restaurant with outside seating overlooking a lake. There I enjoyed a proper coffee and a fantastically delicious salad with figs and pine nuts in the warm mid-afternoon sun. Also visiting were French, British, Dutch, and Germans. There may have been other nationalities that I didn't pickup on. Almost always the waiter or waitress ended up speaking in English.

The loop ride was coming to a close. I took a detour to view a closed windmill from the outside in someone's backyard. I haven't mentioned it much, but the ride took me past field after field of beautiful blooming flowers. This was why I'd come. The wonderful floral aromas added a bonus I hadn't anticipated or sought.

I returned the bike, purchased food for dinner and breakfast at a grocery store and made the walk back to Stayokay. I spent over two hours compiling pictures and posting comments on them. I never did get to the blog!

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My thoughts focus on catching the plane to Lisbon today, yet I managed to squeeze in a pleasant visit to the city of Leiden. I walked the 1-1/2 miles back to bus 57 and rode it to the train station, Leiden Centraal. I found I could store my luggage in the station. To do this, one must buy a train ticket as the lockers are inside the turnstiles. I was concerned that once I entered I couldn't leave without purchasing another ticket to re-enter. No worries, the ticket system knows you haven't gone anywhere and allows one to enter and exit at leisure using the same ticket. The storage facility worked slick for 4.5euro and I was soon walking the old streets of Leiden.

The old section of Leiden reminds me of a small version of Amsterdam. Even the train station with it's rows and rows of bikes is similar to Amsterdam. In fact, the three facilities for parking bikes at the train station I saw must contain thousands of bikes. They were in buildings, in the open air, and underground. The Dutch do utilize their bikes.

I walked past an open coffee shop and quickly turned around going in. After all, the ten o'clock hour hadn't rung yet on the local clock tower.

Leiden seems dominated by it's university. The old town is charming with canals, shops, bridges, and squares. The streets are of cobble stones and there are a number of canals. To a visitor, it conveys an atmosphere of a small Amsterdam. Leiden was a walled city with a canal encircling it at one time with molen (windmills) situated high on the wall. The city gained its wealth from the 17th century until ~1980 by exporting high quality textiles. The standard was maintained by rigorous inspection throughout the manufacturing process with the final approve stamped on the cloth with lead stamps.

The Lakenhal museum resides in the central building used for the final inspection of the textiles and is well worth a visit. It also houses temporary and permanent art exhibits. The temporary exhibit of David Bailly (1584-1657)turned out to be enlightening. A portrait painter for the many wealthy textile related people in Leiden, he explored the vanitas - the philosophy exploring vanity of vanities and the transience of life, that worldly possessions are only temporary. Rembrandt (1606-1669) also explored vanitas and was also a portrait painter at the time in Amsterdam.

The molen museum provides some history on the city and insights to the windmills of Netherlands. The last windmill in the city with its steep stairs offers guests a chance to climb high and see the interworkings. Wind power was an evolutionary step for grinding grain into flour. Originally the grain was ground with the use of two stoned dragged back and forth. The Romans introduced the use of a fixed stone and a stone on top rotated by hand. Then horses were used to turn the upper stone. Wind replaced horses in the Netherlands. Intriguing the use of wind was adapted to cut large logs into planks with vertical reciprocating parallel saw blades. This enabled the Dutch to build fleets of ships much cheaper and faster than other nations probably contributing to their naval successes. Wind was also used in the textile manufacturing.

I walked through the Leiden University campus with its many biological research buildings with the intention of visiting the Corpus museum. Energetic middle school students chatted about outside. The receptionist informed that reservations are required with the first opening days away. I walked back through the cityscape Leiden University campus to the old town. The university was founded in 1575 by Protestants and gained reputation for the quality and tolerance (with glaring exceptions!) of its teachings.

Grabbing an assortment of food from a SPAR store, I ate dinner in the windy chill of the approaching evening before boarding the train for Schipol and my onward journey to Lisbon. Schipol in my view is not longer the model of efficiency and simplicity I once found it to be. I had to traverse passport twice. I found this very confusing given Netherland and Portugal or Schengen area members. I sought refuge in the KLM lounge. Of the three lounges I've visited on this trip only the one in Keflavik was pleasant. The others were overcrowded, noisy, and difficult to find available outlets.