Riding biycles everywhere is practical here; the land is flat save a few arched bridges. It’s been hard to remember to pedal backward when I want to brake, but otherwise a piece of cake to navigate the traffic tangles on two wheels. Sometimes we ride doubles (one on the luggage rack) just to play at being Dutch.

We started as a group of seven friends, about four too many to slide through town without looking like American tourists. So we named our bike posse (the Horseless Riders) and we were seven black coats flying along the cobbled canal-side streets on black granny bikes. Christopher sings the Wu Tang or Eminem at the top of his lungs to propel us forward.

Now two have left—five of us (more managable/easier to please) are heading to dinner. Mussels in wine and garlic, frites with mayo, salad, oude jenever (aged Dutch gin)…

The street fashions here are exceedingly practical—scarves, sweaters, jeans, boots, ponytails. Wholesome chic.
Christopher and I are here: www.abraxasparadise.nl. They’re playing hyperactive Latin American pop music and the espresso machine is whirring along to it.

No time to link that link—I am out of internet tokens!

This is all out of order and I can’t figure out how to cut and paste (nor spellcheck).

See you soon—Tot Ziens!