Bruges

The last time I was in Bruges, I had just turned 20 and was traveling on a tight budget with a guy who had been my boyfriend when we left Edinburgh and London, but wasn't my boyfriend by the time we left Venice or visited Vienna and Bruges. (I don't recall his status when we were in Paris.) Bruges hadn't been part of our planned itinerary, but we went there when we got frustrated trying to figure out the bus in Frankfort. It was lovely - like a postcard - despite the circumstances, and has always been a place I wanted to visit again.

I'm happy to report that Bruges is still like a postcard (but with the Internet).

We:

• spent a fair amount of time in and around the market square, 

• did a Rick Steves self-guided walking tour of the city, saw some old buildings and canals and ruins, learned about the Begijnofs as well as the great housing services for old people, went on a cobblestone-laden bike tour, 

This was the most tasty of all the Belgian waffles I ate on the trip.
I don't think it was due to the added love from my Dad, but maybe.

• went up the famous bell tower, and 

• visited the french fry museum. Yes, the french fry (well, friet) museum. 

My Dad was always game to be in
a photo, which made me happy.

This was funny and disgusting.

We walked a ton in this beautiful little town. The highlights for me from Bruges were visiting a tiny little bar down a dark, tiny alley, going on a tour of the brewery that is sending its beer - via an underground pipeline - to its bottling plant on the outskirts of the city, and having a really fantastic mussels dinner with my husband and parents at a dark, tiny restaurant called the Habit (located across the street from the Hobbit (seriously)). I guess I'm a nooks and crannies kind of gal.

Amsterdam

Perhaps if I had visited a coffee shop in Amsterdam, I would be inspired to have a more creative title for this post. We learned rather quickly that you go to a cafe for coffee. You go to a coffee shop for pot. There are a hell of a lot of tourists walking through the touristy and red light districts of Amsterdam who seem to have spent too much time in coffee shops, and too little time drinking coffee.

There really is only one word to describe Amsterdam: bikes.

As soon as we walked out of the train station, we saw bike parking.

When we looked across the street, and along the canal, we saw more bike parking.

Zoom in - behind all that fencing are tons and tons and tons of bikes.

When we walked throughout the city, there were bikes whizzing by at every moment, on little paths adjacent to the sidewalks, in protected and unprotected bike lanes, and on all other streets. We were in Amsterdam for three nights, and had an apartment in a quiet, mostly residential area about a 10-minute train ride from the Amsterdam Centraal train station. Out there, we saw people commuting and transporting their kids (often multiple kids) - - all by cruiser bike. I believe that I saw two bike helmets in all of Amsterdam, and don't recall seeing any spandex.

Dan and I remarked the first day that we didn't know how it worked, but some how, it worked. When we went on our bike tour of Amsterdam (which, hands down, was my favorite part of visiting Amsterdam), we learned how. In short (?), all kids are required to learn how to ride and learn the rules of the road. All drivers (who learned to bike as children) are required, to pass their licensing exam, to know the rules of the road and certain safe driving measures. At all unmarked intersections, any person, bike, or car yields to the right, unless there are painted triangles on the street pointing at you, in which event you yield to all cross traffic. Everyone stops for a pedestrian in zebra-stripe crosswalks. These were measures that were implemented in the 1970s after a ton of cycling deaths in the late 1960s. How novel. How civilized.

The hipster bike dude-led tour was excellent for other reasons, too. We learned a lot about architecture, history, geography, etc. For example, we learned about Amsterdam arising from development along the Amstel River, it being situated below sea level and concerns about climate change.

We learned about plans to put car parking ramps under the canals.

We learned about how super old buildings, like this now-restaurant on the canal, were warehouses into which cargo was loaded through the central doors. We learned about the visible wall anchors, the still-active pulleys for moving furniture in and out, and the decrease of window height as you look up, making buildings look taller than they are.

We learned about these weird, green, only semi-private spiral urinals on the streets. 

We did a lot of other things in Amsterdam, including seeking out beer on Dan's bucket list, visiting a lovely little brewery powered by a windmill, finding out that the Dutch suggest heating Stroopwafels (the European equivalent to those delicious Honey Stinger things sold in the U.S.) over a mug (great idea!), and, on a very somber note, toured the Anne Frank house, which felt very relevant given recent discourse in the U.S. and internationally.

The building with the dark doors
to the right of the one with
the red awnings is the Anne Frank house.

It was a brief, but lovely, visit. I think it would be interesting to visit other parts of the Netherlands, to see how they compare.

Iceland

People have been asking what was my favorite part of our trip to Europe. You can't really compare Iceland (Ísland) to Amsterdam. Well, you can, but that's like comparing apples to oranges. (Or maybe sea bass to marijuana?)

Iceland was cold and grey when we spent time there, and beautifully sunny when we had a layover on our way back to the U.S. It is smaller than Minnesota and has a total population not much greater than Minneapolis. 

Iceland's energy is sustainable, since the ground essentially is dried lava on top of molten earth and hot springs. Houses don't have hot water heaters. They just have hot water, piped directly from its boiling source, which is also used for heating buildings and keeping the sidewalks from getting icy. As you drive through the countryside, you see wisps of steam coming out of the ground, lava fields, glaciers, and cool rock formations. 

It's a super tourist-friendly place to travel, other than being rather expensive. It was beautiful and amazing, and I hope to go back.

Here are a few photos as we wandered around Reykjavik our first jetlagged day. (I have more photos from our trip that I can share privately, if you need to see more.)

Lutheran Church with statute of Leif Erikkson

(or, if you prefer, Leifur Eiríksson). I guess I cut off the cross.

Some of the more historic, prettier buildings with the harbor behind my parents.
To the right of my dad is a bike lane.

On our second day in Iceland, we took a bus tour to see some of the countryside. We learned a lot about geology, volcanoes, and the history of Iceland. One of our stops on the Circle Tour was to this massive waterfall. It was way more impressive than any other waterfall I've ever seen, and is so much prettier and deadly than Niagara Falls. You can get a sense for how huge it is, when you see the people I included in the photo to better demonstrate the scale.

Looking upriver

Looking downriver into the deep gorge. The little dots on the right side
are people on the path and, a bit beyond, on top of the cliff.

After the waterfall, we went to see some geysers. I was lucky to catch one on video (below). From there, we went to our first hot spring (Fontana), where we ate bread cooked in the earth and I jumped in a glacial lake. I hope I will never forget the look on my Dad's face when he realized that he followed me into the women's dressing room. 

We then went to a big park with cool lava formations, spending our time looking at the area where the Viking settlers gathered for all of their important meetings as they established the government and laws of the land. 

I can totally pronounce these names, can't you?

In the late 800s, the Vikings used the little grassy green area
to the left of this woman, between lava formations,
as a corral for their horses.

That night, we had delicious, ridiculously expensive pizza and beer for dinner at a cozy little pub. It was a highlight of the trip.

The next day, we went to some great museums, had an amazing lunch with fish served family style in cast iron frying pans, and then went to our second hot spring, the infamous Blue Lagoon, with its eerie opaque blue water and Disney-esque queues to get into the facility. While the Blue Lagoon was striking and I'm glad we saw it, I don't need to go back.

As we drove up, I heard someone on the bus ask about the nearby factories.
All the steam is just that: steam. There isn't a factory out there.
Instead, the facility is in the business of keeping people from boiling to death
after paying an admission fee to sit in water together.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of River Road

Well, I've been neglecting my blog, I guess. There's been little to report. I haven't done much biking (only half as many days in August as in July - booo!), had a multi-city work trip, visited an assortment of my parents and got to see my cousin and his family, and am getting work and life things squared away before we go to Europe.

When I was at my parents', I managed to sneak in a quick 30-miler in the foggy farm country. I've never ridden in that area and it was pretty great. I am looking forward to further exploration.

Today, I let off some steam (is that what one does with it?) and doubled my commute distance by riding on the newly reopened, hopefully landslide-free West River Road. This patch of road has been closed for over 2 years. It was great. I took three photos showing how nice it is to ride right along the river at the same level as the water. There was water trickling down another patch of "cliff," which hopefully doesn't have a sandstone underlayer and result in future closures and changes to the local geological scene.

I was going to ride further because it was such a great night for riding and I had lights in my bag. I felt like my legs could go pretty much forever. My hunger got the best of me, though, which allowed me to get a great photo of the sunset over the lake right by my house. Thanks, belly.

Good strong words that mean something

“I like good strong words that mean something." ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Lawyers can be sort of nit-picky. But as a drafter and interpreter of laws, I feel confident in asserting that words mean something. I saw this sign when I got off the elevator to go up to my hotel room. 

My first thought? "Excellent! There's extra padding in the carpeting so that you can't hear the people upstairs. The doors are heavy, so you can't hear people in the hallway."

And then I saw this thing to hang on the door so you aren't disturbed.

Tranquility! Serenity! These are my people! How did they know that I've been craving serene, tranquil, quiet? How'd they know that what I most appreciated about my short bike ride on Saturday was the quiet of riding in the rain, the serenity and tranquility of riding in the dark?

Well, my friends, I don't know how you'd define tranquil, serene quiet. After working in my hotel room tonight to prepare for tomorrow's meeting, I would define "tranquil, serene quiet" in the negative, as in "not being able to hear the person next door use the bathroom."

It seems a vital piece of soundproofing went undone in the newly remodeled wing. 

The signs of summer

The last few nights, I've been loving the sound of the chirping crickets, despite the occasional, irrational terror that they cause in me.

My dad, who likes to scare kids, made up a super scary horror story one summer. He cocked his head, and quietly said, "Do you hear that? Crickets." He then proceeded to tell us, how the sound of crickets reminded him of an event when he was in high school, and made up a long, freakin' scary story about being in underground tunnels at his seminary, being hunted by a demonic creature. It scared the pants off us.

So, despite my fear of the insects, they make me think of being a kid in the summer, when we'd play fanciful imaginary roles all day with our cousin-like family friends visiting from St. Louis, and then stay up all night, too scared to even leave our beds to use the bathroom.

Today was a super summery day - I left at 9:30 and rode my bike in a continuous 5-mile loop, the Powderhorn 24 route, for three hours with Matt, who was doing the 24-hour ride. I ate a taco, and rode to St. Paul for the Irish Fair and watched some dancing, looked at the art, was joined by Dan, had a beer, ate some sweet corn (not too many meatless options), listened to some music, watched some more dancing, and rode home, getting there at about 8:30. It was a perfect day, devoid of responsibility, just like when I was a kid.

And now, I will listen to the crickets as I fall asleep.

How much beer would it take...?

...for me to smell it when a car passes me by on the street?

This is what I am wondering as I distract myself from worrying about my poor dog's new bout of lameness.

I often smell pot from cars as they pass by my bike, but today a car passed me and it smelled like an old bar you'd find in Superior, Wisconsin.

I can tell you who wasn't drunk: the kick ass woman who passed me on her bike on the way home. She had regular platform pedals on her upright, rattling bike and maintained a steady 18-ish mph pace while smiling with her mouth closed and not breathing hard (and maybe not even sweating). I tried catching up to her a few times to see whether she was real (or had some electronic assist feature), but was going too slowly and also didn't want to run a stoplight.

I hope she was the real deal. I liked watching her pass people.