A Really Big Computer

Blog 2805, 30 October 2022, Sunday                        

Dear friend,

We are home, half wondering where we are, what we did, and what now. After spending a long day with two flights, airplane food, robotic behavior, we arrived home late on Saturday. There was a flurry of activity, grocery shopping, connecting with neighbors, turning everything on, checking what needed to be checked, and then we crashed. Our intent was to fight jet lag by staying awake until 9, by six-thirty I was done with trying to stay awake. I think Jean soon followed but I have no recollection until I awoke in the dark in a strange room with the numbers 12:12 staring at me. After thirty seconds of bafflement, I realized those numbers were familiar. When the second 12 switched to 13, I realized where I was and then tried to remember where the bathroom was. By the time I did, I was wide awake, at midnight, in the most comfortable bed I’d been in for months. That was probably my moment of homecoming. I’m home!

Following my usual pattern, I got up, closed the door to the bedroom, went into my study and thought it was the most amazing room I’d ever been in my life. After months of daintily picking my way on the keyboard of my little Asus laptop, I turned on my big Mac (no infringing on McDonald’s here) and lit up the study. It felt like I’d left the pilot’s seat of a Piper Cub and fired up a 747. The room was filled with light, and for the first time in months I had to remember what my password was. After a brief moment of panic, I got it right, then mentally went through the other passwords I needed. Then I began my new day doing that which I have loved doing for the last decade, I wrote “Dear friend,” on the top line of my blog. I was home.

How we got home, it happened in this manner. We trained into Hamburg, taxied to the Leonardo Hotel, and reorganized all our luggage to have one carry-on and two duffle bags, 10.2 and 11.5 kg, easily under Lufthansa’s draconian weight restrictions. Our alarm sounded at 4:50, I was already awake, packed, and pacing. I wanted the day to be over, even before it began. Jean packed her final one percent; we needed another taxi because our hotel was across the freeway from the airport but there was no pedestrian way to get there. We checked in, we were untroubled, and flew for an hour to Frankfort, and with a hour and forty minutes between flights barely had time to walk the distance from the A concourse to the Z concourse. If you ever fly through that airport, you might want to register as needing a wheelchair, probably motorized.

Then, for the next eleven hours, we went into mental and physical hibernation. Armed with support socks, reading material, and a TV screen the size of my baby laptop, time passed.

By the time we’d landed, we’d been awake 23 hours. We just wanted to get home; however, I was traveling with a Wahlstrom. At the Arrival stand at Sea-Tac, they came in two cars to greet us. Like the weary grump I am, when they delivered our car (which is why there were two cars, so they didn’t have to walk home), I got in the car and Jean, bless her Wahlstrom heart, was back there greeting, hugging, honoring them while I sat in our car, at the airport’s “Pick Up But Do Not Stop” section, thinking “I could go home now.” I probably offended them a little, but I knew we were swinging my Jane’s place to gather the stuff she’d carried home for us when she left Barcelona. I just wanted to be home. I am home. If I’m awake, I’ll be at church today, but otherwise I’ll be nesting in my study, listening to radio stations and TV stations where people speak English, drinking free refills, and I know I won’t have to pack for quite a while. Thanks for sharing the trip with us. Love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted, 2 a.m., Sunday

Are We There Yet?

Blog 2804, 29 October 2022, Saturday                                 

Dear friend,

I can tell you about yesterday, but not today. But tonight we’re going to sleep in our own bed in our own place. This morning we woke up in the Leonardo Hotel in Hamburg. Because I was carrying two heave duffel bags and had a backpack on, they gave us a room on the second floor, which here turns out to be the third floor in our way of thinking. I took a break after the first set of stairs where the kid at the desk couldn’t see me.

Last time on trains, our scheduled six trains turned out to be five. To make up for it, yesterdays two trains turned out to be three, and in a harried series of events some strange lady I’m travelling with said, “Get off here!” and I got off with the luggage. I turned and waited when her distant voice said, “Get back on.” I did, barely. I’d gotten off at the IKEA paid-for station while my tickets and directions remained firmly in her grasp.

I’ve thought about whether we should have gone home or stayed to visit friends, and there is no doubt our time with Jane, Sue, and Marjorie were major blessings. We know what they did, we know what they do, and this is their secret: they’re dynamic. They were worth being with, we don’t regret our other option. Friends make life worth living. They may have started out as her friends but when I’m there I treat then like they’re my friend and the next thing that happens is they started treating me like a good friend.

There will be no blog today. The Leonardo has a Wi-Fi  but there’s no password, it’s open to anyone or anything that wants to join in. No thanks. So there will be not blog to read on Saturday, instead I’ll be there in person—posting it from home. Maybe I’ll finally have the rest of the story by then. Love,

Jeannmarv

Before we left for our flight, I tried to post this blog, but my little computer refused to give me access to the hotel’s Internet because there is no password, it’s an open account and my machine thought I ought not send my blog. So you’re getting this Saturday evening from Seattle where both Jean and I are on the verge of calling the day done at 6 p.m.. The day might not be done but we are, we’re done in! Details to follow.

Something’s Happening Here

Blog 2803, 28 October 2022, Friday                         

Dear friend,

Tomorrow a plane lands at Sea-Tac from Frankfort, Germany carrying two weary Americans returning home. On the 51^st day of our safari, after 50 nights, we’re almost home. We need to collect our car, collect our wits, see some family, and we’re going to be home. We start our exit today about one in the afternoon with a two-train ride, one transfer leg that will take us to Hamburg. Tomorrow we hop a short flight to Frankfort and then one lllooonnnnggg flight to Seattle. That’s a total of 13 airplane hours, ten different time zones, and two well spent travelers. Truly, something’s happening here😊!

We spent four days in Amsterdam with predicted rains that never came, the same thing happened in Travemunde. I suspect our amazing streak of dry weather will not extend to Seattle, but it has been strange. Apparently, Europe is enduring some of the unpredicted/unpredictable climate changes, and while it’s been good for us, it’s really not a “good” thing.

Yesterday we walked nearly 20,000 steps and never went anywhere. Twice the three of us took leisure strolls through Travemunde, walking and talking, drinking coffee, and talking, eating and talking. We hadn’t spent a lot of time together in Africa, but we had given our hearts to the project and the girls of that project, and so what we learned from each other were different stories and different views. We needed these three days of non-stop chatter to better understand the miracle of the Maasae Girls Lutheran Secondary School. Even though we were there, it was different. Because we were there, it was the same. It was good to mix our stories, the blend of which is a more complete picture. We’re sorry we weren’t there at the founding and very beginning of the school, they who started the work missed the fruits of their efforts. Together, we rewove the story. If there’s ever a MGLSS reunion of the volunteers, it had better be two weeks long.

I’m beginning to think we made a mistake by not immediately returning home to mentally process the experience of the Camino Walk. Now when I think about the Walk, my memories are vague and scattered, like trying to remember last summer’s vacation. The rest of our party arrived home with the shadow of the Walk covering everything they said, saw, or did; Jean and I have to unpile two weeks of other memories to find the Walk. I have my blogs, scattered notes, maps, and Jean’s pictures to be able to retell our adventure to myself, something I should probably do before I try to tell others about it. It was good, we were lucky to have gotten through it as well as we did, most people do just fine on the road, and we were blessed by so much, so many things, people, and events that should be considered anew. When we get home, that could be my winter’s project. Love,

Jeannmarv

Up, Up, and Bouncing

Blog 2802, 27 October 2022, Thursday                                

Dear friend,

My barking cough is almost gone. The German alcohol-free cough medicine and an old nasal spray from the last time I had bronchitis have led me through to health, after the pill that dried up my nose and nasal spray set me on the right course. I was up, about, a little annoying to those around me. I was back.

I had a breakfast of Tony the Tiger’s GREAT cereal, a snack at 11, a bit of bakery about 2, and finally a plate of mildly spicy spaghetti, that was all I had a chance to eat even though we walked some 16,000 steps. When you walk with old ladies, you can’t expect them to eat as you wish, even though I’m older then all but Jean. Yesterday we visited Baltic gift shops rather than Mediterranean shops of the Barcelona days, literally different worlds. It was hard to comprehend how many people walk the front street of Travemonde, the village looked like it had a cast of hundreds as background to a musical western. We met with Kathy Sell, who I’d missed the day before.

Kathy and Marjorie go back to the starting days of the Girls School. All the early teachers got together and went on a safari, including Jean and I and the three starting teachers, Jane, Ruth, and Kristen. Add Beth to the mix, seven women and one guy. Eight people, but the safari vehicle only held seven. Someone couldn’t go. I was that someone. They left me to write bible studies and they had what was forever called, “The Safari.” They saw everything, endured every imaginable but pleasant thing possible. They all loved it; they had to race back and tell me how wonderful life was without me. Even yesterday, some thirty years later, they were laughing about “The Safari.” They all tell me of the wonderful time I missed if I’d only gone with them. Generally, I say nothing.

Thirty years later, we’re still together. Life in Africa does that to you. Shared experiences help you jump-start friendships, no other qualification is needed. One thing Kathy did when she returned home after The Safari, she went out and bought a Dell book of crossword puzzles to see if I really made crossword puzzles. She opened the book and there I was, name spelled correctly, creator of Dell’s Bible Crossword puzzle of the month. She validated my existence. It was also probably the last puzzle I did for Dell. I got busy with things African. Thirty years ago? Wow! With love,

Jeannmarv

Written and Posted: 2 a.m., Thursday (5:21 p.m., Wednesday, PDT)

Confined and Crabby

Blog 2801, 26 October 2022, Wednesday                            

Dear friend,

I’m dealing with a pre-bronchial condition. Its cause is the nasal thing I sometimes get that has now slipped down into my lungs and I’m starting to sound like an angry seal every time I cough/bark. I’d guess they may not allow me on a plane with this condition, so I’ve locked myself in to our one-room, bad hide-a-bed, B& (no second B). I slept in the bed 33 minutes the night before, today was a little better, I just started on the floor. The floor is much firmer.

Jean and Marjorie and their legendary friend, Kathy Sell, spent most of yesterday together shopping, dining, laughing, having fun together. In Travemunde they have a world-wide competition for sand sculptures (indoors, for a good reason here) and the ladies brought me a tablespoon-size piece of apricot cake for consolation of not having lunch with them. No one wants to eat with me, but tonight the three of us will go to an outdoor restaurant, I’ll be the one at the far end of the table.

This place, along with an Internet connection, has a satellite TV program that I do not understand. Yesterday while laying low, I searched 300 news stations, all were in German, French, Dutch, or Spanish, and nothing in English. There were hundreds of sitcoms, usually American, all dubbed. It’s amazing how un-funny The Big Bang Theory can be when you don’t understand a word of it. There are so many streams of stations that I can never find my way back to where I was. This TV is as confusing to me as my phone is.

Despite the cough, I am amazingly well now. If I didn’t cough, no one would know otherwise. I feel fine, maybe a little low in energy and I’ll need that strength for our train ride to Hamburg on Friday, but from then it’s taxi to the airport on Saturday, check my luggage, and fly to Seattle after a plane transfer in Frankfort. Ah, if only I didn’t cough. I am taking every non-alcoholic cough inhibitor I can find; I’ll never know which one worked and I also don’t know what the right dosage is because the directions are all written in German or Dutch. Jean, too, wishes I would quit my barking cough because every time I cough, she stirs. In a one-room B& at 4 in the morning, there’s not much room for privacy or silence. Love,

Jeannmarv

Epicest (as in most epic) of Journeys

Blog 2800, 25 October 2022, Tuesday                      

Dear friend,

Compared with the journeys of Shackleton or Peary, our journey was quite mild. However, compared to other sections of this trip we’ve been on, this one was fraught with impossibilities that should have been daunting: six scheduled trains, five transfers of trains, in 8 hours and 40 minutes looked daunting. This is a plot for Survivor, the TV show.

Round one began with a sprint to the train station in Heemstede to avoid the rain that would sweep through the area. Carrying our packs on our backs and the little one with sandwiches, books, and survival items, we got to the train station early, waited for our double decked train, rode through Haarlem to Amsterdam in an anti-climatic opening.

Round Two: we had ten minutes to catch the train to Arnhem, a 69-minute journey that had apparently been cancelled some time ago without notifying us. Scrambling for information, the Information people only told us the train had been cancelled. We went where it was supposed to be, a conductor said, get on the last car (meaning the farthest, naturally) and we sprinted, found two seats together, sat down, and almost immediately the train began to move. To where we weren’t sure, one thing obvious was that we were facing backwards, something very difficult for Jean to handle. We switched seats and learned that we weren’t on the train to Arnhem but to Duisberg, Germany. That was the best news of the day, because Duisberg was scheduled to be our third train, so we were only going to make four transfers involving five trains. We rode for two and a half hours, and I started thinking, “We’re almost there.” When a pessimist tries a positive thought, it never really works.

Skipping Round Two, we go to Round Three: We were due in at 12:32, our next connection was 12:47. Easy. It would have been easier if our train coming in hadn’t been fifteen minutes late. Let’s see, add 15 to the 32 and you get 47. What a marvelous coincidence. But bless the perfect inconsistency of the Germans, the new train was running late, fifteen minutes. This was the point in the trip when I realized that logic will never satisfy anyone riding the trains here, but faith will. Believe, don’t think. Someone up above, in this case some practical mathematician in the railroad system, has altered the perfect schedule with reality, a task worthy of consideration for a future Nobel Award. We sat back and rode for three hours of travel to Hamburg, moments of blissful non-involvement.

Round Four: the trail to Lubeck. It had been hit-and-miss all day long, but I thought we were three-for-three and doing OK. We had 44 minutes to catch the next train, to Lubeck, and had our train come in on time it would have been easy. It must have been easy, because here, the following morning, I can’t remember anything about Lubeck or catching the train there. Other stations I remember well, carrying two large duffle bags, knocking people out of my way, leaping over sleeping passengers who’d believed their train schedules, leaping into moving trains just as the doors were closing. Lubeck must have been a moment of peace because I don’t remember the depot at all! I remember Jean and I in the last empty seats, sitting opposite each other, she facing forward and I back, next to two snotty high school girls who were, themselves, seated next to two old goats, one of whom has split the knee of my only pair of long pants open with a six-inch gash of very white skin showing, just above my right knee. The old guy was coughing, wiping his nose, and sweating because when we learned when the train was actually leaving, the information lady said, “You have three minutes to catch the train.” We made it, but the train chugged away before I had a chance to stow our luggage, which is the first thing I normally do. Oh, yes, I remember Lubeck, the people leaping to get out of my way, Jean screaming like a crazed Banshee, “Hurry,” like it was a word to encourage a military charge. Oh, yes, I remember now. It was better when I didn’t.

Round Five: the final event. When you get on the final train, a train that quietly slipped into its place, without announcement, weary people silently getting on, no one talking, reminding me of an old episode of The Twilight Zone. I asked the only one near us, “Does this train go to Travemunde?” “Oh, yes,” she cackled and slipped away at the first stop. All announcements, and they were few, were made in garbled German. Four other people were on the train, but none spoke English. The old lady was leaning against her bicycle, I think asleep. Finally, the announcer said, “Grrgerlump-peak” but the sign flashed Travemunde and some other town name. We got off, the train pulled away, and we were alone in an abandoned train station with one young man sitting alone in the waiting room, glaring at us uncomfortably. This was the point in the show that the music gets slow and creepy. Standing by the tracks, we saw two buses roll by about twenty feet apart, empty buses. A man pulled up with his car, came up to the landing. I said, “Hello,” but he wouldn’t look at me. A minute later he came back, this time I said “Hello, sir,” but again he didn’t acknowledge my presence.

We called our friend, Marjorie who informed us we hadn’t gotten off the train. We had, but it was at the first of the three Travemunde stops, and we hadn’t known that. She has no car, the only taxi in town refused to drive out to an empty train station to pick up someone else who probably wasn’t there, anyway. We walked down the road a bit, carrying our luggage. (A side note: in one of the depots, we were sitting with I think were a group of refugees. We fit right in with them. That’s worthy of a blog later.) We found a bus stop going the right way, Jean read the schedule that said the bus would come by at 5:58. In Travemunde, at the 54^th parallel, as I’m sure everyone knows, it’s dark by the end of October by that time. We waited, it was the last bus of the day, and it came on time. It was a double-long bus, one young man sat in the back and slipped away at a stop. We told the driver we needed to go to the Rosa stop. He said his only word, “Ros-a” as if correcting her pronunciation. Not another word, he asked for no fare, he drove, we rode, and then he stopped and said, “End of line. Get out,” in what I think was English. We got, he drove away.

We had no idea, as in not a clue, where we were. That’s when God sent that crazy Chinese/American living in Hamburg angel to our rescue. Born in China, lived in LA, followed a boyfriend (an American) to Germany, he died, she found another boyfriend, and has lived in Germany for twenty years. How do we know that much about her, she mostly spoke, listened little, and yet she’s the one who could tell our friend Marjorie where we were. Marjorie said it was only a few blocks and she started to walk over. As Marjorie appeared out of the dark, the music ought to have been brass and drums, what it was instead was a lovely but nuts Chinese woman speaking English non-stop. We walked away from her, still talking but not noticing our absence, ate an Italian dinner, walked to our room, passed out. We’d made it. I made a blog into a short novel, and we’re fine, sassy, and happy. That’s love,

Jeannmarv

What’s a One-Nostril Cold?

Blog 2799, 24 October 2022, Monday                      

Dear friend,

On days we travel, we want to be healthy and we want all those around us to be happy. If you have Covid, you do not travel. If you have a cold or flu, do not travel. But what if you have a half-cold? I have no cold symptoms, my left nostril is absolutely fine, and my right one is dripping like I have a broken pipe in my attic. What’s that mean? One hour into the night I put away my beloved CPAP machine because, well, never mind, you can imagine what a runny nose is like in a facemask.

I learned today we’ll be taking six different trains, with five transfers, mostly in Germany and also in German, which makes today look promisingly more exciting. Also, it causes another emotion rather than mere excitement, call it fear, dread, panic, or other synonyms. When we realized it was six, we’re trying to reduce our luggage pieces down to two pieces. Weight on the train is irrelevant, weight I’ll be carrying will not change but taking it off my back and putting it on the ends of my arms seems pushing it. Our first trek to get to the train station in Heemstede is to walk, carrying our luggage a kilometer, possibly in drizzle. From then we’re under cover, but we might as well start damp if everything around is falling apart. A wet and angry look may get us more cooperation than the sane, clean, happy, rich American look, which we are not.

Yesterday we went to the dunes on the North Sea, walking through another gentle woodlands park until we got to the dunes, but we did not walk on the dunes. Instead, we went to the beach, winds at 16 mph, everyone dressed in winter clothing, and the beach was full. Sue laughs that the beach always has people, and a nice day like yesterday (translation, it wasn’t raining), she expected that many. We stopped in Haarlem for coffee just as it started to rain. Sue looked at an app on her phone and announced that this rain will end in two minutes, then showed us the local map with the green cloud drifting faster than 16 miles an hour scurrying off to the north. Two minutes later, the rain stopped. When I just checked the weather for tomorrow, the station said that rain would start here in 126 minutes. That’s not two hours, that’s two hours and six minutes. OK, I’m impressed.

But that was yesterday, today lies before us like a sleeping grizzly that we’re trying to tip-toe past carrying eighty pounds of stuff. Actually, that’s six bears. I look forward to writing tomorrow’s blog from Travemunde. It should be an interesting blog. Love,

Jeannmarv

Inna Week

Blog 2798, 23 October 2022, Sunday                        

Dear friend,

One week from today we’ll be home. Until then we will ride four trains and fly twice. We will stay here in Amsterdam one more night, four nights in Travemunde on the German Baltic coast, one night in a hotel in Hamburg, and then one extended (a dreaded 33-hour) day as we fly home. That’s after fifty days of being gone, and it seems longer. We’ve had adventure, success, sickness (once) and time with friends. It’ll be interesting to see how we react to being home, will we just drop back into our old routine or can we really change for the better. In three weeks, we may have some answers. In three years, we may try to remember what those changes are. This, too, is life, sometimes it speeds up and sometimes it slows down. Where did those fifty very long but awfully quick days go?

Yesterday was a slow day that lingered, it took us nearly to noon to get out of the house and have a dessert and coffee (or tea for Sue). On the way to coffee, we walked the route that Jean and I will travel to get to the first of three trains we’re destined to ride tomorrow. The first to Amsterdam, the second to Hamburg, and the third to Travemunde. We came back from the dessert break and took naps while Sue walked to the seashore. When she came back, we went to a Chinese dinner and then the day was done. We did a tenth as much as we’d done the day before, but it was a day the older folks needed. It was only our second “Do Nothing Day” since before we started this journey, the other one was when we were sick and that doesn’t really count. Sue accepted our refusal to move with grace, she did her thing, and we did ours. That’s a good sign of friendship.

Today is a mystery. This is Sue’s last day of having a week off, we don’t want to waste it for her, which is sort of how I feel about yesterday. She’ll do whatever we want, but we’ve got to want to do something. Our answer is “anything” which really means, “nothing. Whatever you want to do.” Too often people’s politeness stifles some really good ideas, none of which I happen to possess for today. Hence, today is a mystery, not through secrecy but from ineptitude. Alas, but with love,

Jeannmarv

Driving the Dikes

Blog 2797, 22 October 2022, Saturday                     

Dear friend,

In response to my idea in the last blog to fill the car with petrol and cruise the country, the tank was already full (with mileage good enough to get us to Paris), the northern route with the longest dike was under road construction (no details on a dike) and so took the second, lesser dike. We drove, saw, ate, bought, rode, ate, coffeed twice, and had a really good time together. Sue wanted to see a clothing store for outdoor clothes, she didn’t find what she wanted but we found what we wanted but did not need. Really, this is my first “new” clothing item I picked out for myself since fish crawled out of the water. It’s a blue, Kjelvik zippered sweatshirt with seven pockets, just what I didn’t need but wanted, at one-third off. Jean, in respond, found a green zippered sweatshirt, also a Kjelvik, same good deal but with fewer pockets.

I wore my raincoat, and it didn’t rain; I brought my sunglasses, and the sun came out. It took us all day to drive the loop. Tonight’s low temperature was 56 where we’re staying, today’s high will be 63, with a 23% chance of precipitation. That’s barely having weather.

Hopefully we’re staying around Sue’s neighborhood today. I’ll probably finish this blog before getting out early to walk. Sue says nothing opens before 10 a.m. in the neighborhood (Heemstede) so going somewhere for something doesn’t work here. But she doesn’t know because she doesn’t go, so by tonight she’ll know any exceptions to that thought of hers.

Our host is a Brit who, at a distance, is worried about their new Prime Minister resigning after only 45 days in power and the possibility of Boris returning to office. I know what that sense of fear feels like. I continue to feel lost in today’s world. I’ve been a Republican my entire life until that party dissolved a few years ago and it feels as if no one even tried to save it. I’ve always considered myself more conservative than liberal, except someone stressed the word ‘extreme’ onto both sides of that coin and neither title fits me. The name of my denomination includes the word ‘evangelical’ but that was supposed to be a word of reaching out, now it’s become a hammer with which to pound others down. Missing all the political ads, campaigns, slanders, etc. has been an unexpected gift to us, but it puts us into mind of being gone in October, two years from now. To be patriotic to your own party is NOT being patriotic. The Brits and now the Italians are going through the same political nightmare as we are. These are the interesting times of which that old Chinese curse spoke. But there are blessings, too. Here’s one: love,

Jeannmarv

Bring Your Raincoat

Blog 2796, 21 October 2022, Friday                         

Dear friend,

That was our host’s advice on the day before we arrived in Amsterdam. On top of my carry-on pack on the plane, I had my foldable, Columbia raincoat on top of my CPAP and computer, protecting them as well as making the raincoat readily available. Our hostess picked us up at the airport/train station combination and we made it to her car without being exposed to the rain, so I didn’t bother with my rain jacket. When we arrived at her place, I put on my jacket and the rain stopped immediately, soon the sun came out and the gray skies gave way to blue. I can’t wait to try that trick today, put on the coat and stop the rain. For this day, for this moment I’ll assume it wasn’t just a coincidence, but trials will prove the truth. Reality will be the final judge.

It feels sad to be without Jane. But life goes on, here as we struck up our old friendship, Sue took us to the Amsterdamse Waterleidingduinen Nature Preserve, with the absolutely weirdest river I’ve seen. It’s miles of dug channels laid out not unlike an old septic tank’s tile field. It is fresh water, ground water. It was dug in the 1850s and provided drinking water for Amsterdam. Although it’s no longer used as a water source, they keep the waters flowing although the water doesn’t go anywhere, it has no outlet. It just flows, round and round, with many bridges and miles of paths. I guess we saw 50 European fallow deer, the kind of deer George Washington brought over to his plantation, calling them “English deer.” It’s a walker’s paradise, about six miles of woodland walking. A great place to renew a friendship.

We’re here until Monday, four nights, kind of an awkward length of time because we’ve seen most of the surrounding areas on previous visits, we don’t want to be a burden to Sue, but it doesn’t feel like anyone has a plan. I don’t. Of course, I’d be content to fill her car up with petrol and cruise the country. We could be back by sunset. Some quick statistics I picked up: the population is 17 million people; it is the most densely populated country in Europe; 60% of the people live below sea level. It was in The Netherlands that the CD and DVD were developed. They invented the Stock Market. They are the tallest and best fed (health-wise) people in the world and the sixth happiest. They get almost 50% more exercise than anyone else in the world. That’s where we are today and tomorrow, hopefully dressed for rain but needing to wear sunglasses. Weather can be such a mystery. Love,

Jeannmarv