Europe #8 - The Rhine River, Germany

Well, here we are again. Several of you, Dear Readers, have written to say how much you're enjoying our adventures. Thanks! Interesting stuff keeps happening.

Tonight when we checked our email, we had the following note from Hans Beurling in Norway:

Dear Janice

Guess what I found When I took the old picture out of the album!

The pictures of Gustav Ferdinand and the picture to the left in the album, the one your father thought may be was Julia Johanson.

Both pictures is taken in Hjerpen Sweden.

It look likes theese are the only pictures coming from Sweden.

I belive that Richard is right about Julia Johanson.

in the back off the picture of Gustav Ferdinand it says in Swedish, besides the buisniss name and adress : "The plate is archived in case of an after order".

Look at the attachments.

If you would like me to mail the pictures to your ordinary e-mail, please tell me.

Venner for alltid
(Friends for ever)
Hans

How exciting can this genealogy stuff get? [Thanks, Hans. We're so glad you checked those photos thoroughly.]

Now, to our latest adventures.

After we left the Ruesink farm in Holland on Thursday morning, we had only a few km to drive before we reached the German border. Again, nothing remotely resembling customs. Just a sign saying we were in Germany.

Our first order of business was to master the art of driving on the Autobahn. There weren't many cars at first and we didn't even realize we were on the famed speedway. However, as we sped along at about 120 km an hour (under the speed limit for the right lane) we did notice the car shaking as other cars started to drift by at -- Dad thinks -- about 180 to 200 km an hour. Needless to say, Mom was again trying to drive from the back seat. She helped Dad every time he had to pass a slower truck. He says he spent the whole time watching for approaching vehicles in the rear view mirror. Motorcycles were even faster than the cars. I think we only heard them as they broke the sound barrier.

The terrain changed fairly quickly from the very flat land of the Netherlands, to rolling hills, not mountains but much bigger than anything in southern Ontario. We left the highway just before noon to drive smaller (much smaller -- and slower) roads to the village of Bacharach (as in Burt). Our goal was to take a river cruise on the Rhine River, one of the greatest rivers in Europe. As we were making our way toward the river, we stopped on the road at one spot where we had a fabulous view. The wildflowers were blooming, the sun was shining, the breezes were blowing, Dad was videotaping, and then we could hear the noon bells from the distant villages ring out. It was almost The Sound of Music.

However, the bells reminded me that the cruise left the docks at 12:30 and we still had a way to go. We flew down the hills (just like Maria), and finally reached the town of Bacharach. The streets were cobble-stoned, the streets were narrow, and Mom was again driving from the back seat. We finally emerged from the old part of town onto the main (I use the term loosely) road that runs by the river. Lo and behold, but didn't we pop out exactly by the dock parking lot.

We pulled into the last parking spot and hurriedly grabbed backpack and cameras. We had only a few minutes before the boat was to arrive. In fact, the boat schedule had been changed and we had fewer minutes than we'd expected. We left the car so quickly, Dad had to go back to close Mom's door and lock up. We hopped on board the crowded boat and settled in on the top deck for a fun ride.

The river current is about 10 km per hour in the wider sections, and as fast as 20 km an hour in the narrows. We travelled downriver to the fourth stop on the route, St. Goar. In between, we saw castles guarding the river. These were originally built to control river traffic. There is one castle where they would pull chains across the river to stop boats until they paid a toll. If the sailors didn't pay up, they enjoyed castle hospitality in the dungeon.

Another feature of the river is the river traffic. We saw many river boats and barges carrying any number of heavy loads. The boat owners live on board (you could see the lace curtains in the windows) and sometimes carry their own cars on deck. These boats are massive.

One of the most interesting aspects of the Rhine (and Mosel) River is the many, many vineyards climbing the hills. We thought the hillsides rose at about a 65 degree angle, yet they were covered with rows of grape vines. The hillsides were terraced with ancient stone walls. We couldn't imagine how anyone could till the fields, let alone harvest the grapes. It is quite amazing. Dad says it's beyond telling and you'll have to look at our photos (his videos!).

When we arrived in St. Goar (about an hour's ride) and found a restaurant for lunch, Mom said to Dad, "You have the Germanz money, don't you?" Dad looked blank and said, "I thought you had the money." Then we realized that in the rush to catch the boat, we'd left the money in plain view on the car dashboard. Oy! Not only that, but I started to think about how we hadn't seen any parking meters, but neither had we really looked. Nevertheless, when we returned to Bacharach a few hours later, the car and money were still intact -- no fines, no break-ins. Whew! (We did have a good lunch anyway. Plastic is still good for some things!)

After our boat adventure, we hurried to our hotel for the night in Beilstein on the Mosel River, a tributary of the Rhine. We found the village without any trouble, but couldn't find the hotel itself. I set out on foot down through the village toward the river. Dad and Mom followed me by car. The street they came down was so narrow, Dad scraped the car mirrors on the walls of the buildings. Needless to say, I've never seen Mom get out of a car so fast! There was steam seeping from the car windows when they finally reached the hotel. I'm glad I was on foot.

The hotel was built in the 1600's and our room was quite remarkable. It wasn't large (although the owner's father told Dad it used to be three rooms) and the wooden beams were very much in evidence. Also, the floor distinctly sloped. You had to walk UP to the windows. The bathroom was modern. We also had a great breakfast the next morning -- everything from a boiled egg to rolls with cheese and meat to Mooselips and Yoggi (mueslix and yoghurt). A fun place!

The next morning we toured our first castle, Burg Eltz. This striking, rather fairytale looking assembly of buildings was built in the 1300s. We visited about eight or ten rooms that were beautifully decorated. We really enjoyed this experience. The same family has owned the property (and still uses it) for 700 years. A must-see if you visit this area.

That afternoon we drove to Rothenberg on the Tauber in Bavaria (southeastern Germany). The drive (more autobahn) was beautiful and the town is one of the best walled medieval towns in Europe. We're staying in a manor house hotel that was built in the 1400s. Our room on the second floor is as large as the previous hotel room was small. We've been hanging out the five windows in our room, over the geraniums, to watch the parades passing by on the street below.

This town is also for serious shoppers. Mom and I have dropped several times today. This morning, Dad and I took in a brief organ concert in one of the local (ancient) churches. It was great. The pews shook.

Tonight we opted for a choir and organ concert at the St. Jacobs Evangelical Lutheran Church a couple of blocks from the hotel. The church was built in the 1300s and Dad estimates the roof is about eight or nine stories high. With the stone and structure, the acoustics were fabulous. The choral notes just floated up and wandered around the roof long after the choir had finished. They performed a number of pieces, including some Bach and Holst. One song we recognized was Nun danket allet Gott (Now thank we all our God). It was fabulous.

Now, about food. My brother, John, said we should be sure to try exotic dishes. Well, sometimes it's hard to tell what you're going to be served when your waitress doesn't speak English and you can't read German menus. For example, at lunch today, we placed an order for something exotic. What did we find when we received our meal but -- Chicken McNuggets. Go figure!

However, tonight I had Venison Ragout mit Spatzel. Spatzel was described as potato dumplings, but it looked more like Klingon Gagh! to me. Mom had salmon with noodles and salad. Dad had sauerkraut (again) with several kinds of meat including bratworst, bacon and steak with boiled potatoes. It was all terrific.

Now we're exhausted, it's dark out and Mom is sure we won't find our way home. If you don't hear from us again, send help!

Europe #7 - Gelderland and Overijssel, Netherlands

Well, we're coming to the end of three days in the Gelderland, the home province of the Beurling clan.

Today we visited the village of Blokzijl in the neighbouring province of Overijssel. This is the village Fredrik Hassels Beulink was born and raised in. He's the one who immigrated to Sweden about 1810. It's a charming village, originally on the edge of the dikes that kept the Zuider Zee out of the farmland. Today, much of that Zuider Zee has been drained and the port village of Blokzijl is now many kilometers from open water. However, it still has a small harbour in the centre of town and canal access to the sea. It is very beautiful with houses that date back to the 1600s.

Its church is quite important historically because it was one of the first protestant churches built in Holland. We walked into it and admired the accoustics, chandeliers and graves in the floor. Unfortunately, most the grave inscriptions are worn away by restless feet during long sermons. There is a large clock above the church door (inside) that has only one hand to show the hour. However, Dad read that on the pulpit, which is one of those high jobs you access by a private staircase, has an hour-long egg timer to keep the pastor on track. It's about a foot tall and is quite visible to the congregation. Does Parkway need an egg-timer? Soft or hard boiled?

Yesterday was a great day! We finally found a laundry. The farmers we're staying with (great place) let us use theirs. While our shirts were sloshing, we sat around their table and chatted. Of course, we told them why we were visiting their area and they got out their phone book to see if they could find Christel Beulink's address (she's the girl who emailed me on the weekend). They found a list of about six Beulinks in the village of Zelham, not far away.

Then Erik (the farmer) offered to phone and see if we had the right place. Christel answered the phone! [Can you believe that, Hans?] I spoke with her briefly on the phone and we arranged to meet at her house that afternoon. We didn't have too much trouble finding her house -- another farm. Pigs and cows. She and her parents gave us a tour of their place. It was really fascinating. Not what city people like us are accoustomed to seeing. It was really a great opportunity.

Christel and her parents seemed very excited about the contact. It was very unexpected to them because Christel still hadn't checked the email response I sent her, so she didn't have any idea that we were in the area, let alone on the continent. Such timing. I can't help but think the Lord's hand was in this.

We spent about 90 minutes with them. They showed us photos -- many of the people had suspiciously Beurling-like ears! They showed us their own family tree research; I wrote some of the information down and will check it with my other records when I get home. They have many Fredriks in their family names.

The Beulinks, who are brown-haired and brown-eyed, served us delicious coffee and biscuits and then -- a major highlight -- led us by car to the farmhouse where Crystal's Beulink grandfather was born, a few km away. The farmhouse was built about 1856 (we took photos and I don't quite remember the precise year), but -- this is important -- it had built into the front of the house for a keystone, another stone that had been inscribed: BOELINK 1473. This implies to us that the Beulink family has been in that area at least since the 15th century! Wow. This will give us some more genealogical leads. I think I'll try to look for that spelling of Boelink in early records. Without this clue, I might have passed over that name in the Dutch records.

Also, Mom and Dad's Grenada connection through their friend George, suggested that Beul is also the name of a tool used in linen production. The making of linen was a major activity in Overijssel a couple of centuries ago. Earlier today we visited a museum he recommended in the nearby village of Vriesenveen where we had a personal tour by one of the museum staff, and where we learned more about this. However, it would seem that the name Beulink/Boelink predates that industry.  I'm sure we'll learn more in the months and years to come.

Well, we'd better sign off for now. Tomorrow morning we cross into Germany and, if we time it right, we'll take a cruise down the Rhine River and Mom will shop for a cuckoo clock.

PS: Just asked Dad if there's anything else we should say and he said, "What about food?" We're eating breakfast just like real Europeans, seedy bread, smelly cheese and strong coffee. Lunch we try to eat out. Yesterday we had another Dutch pancake with stroganoff inside. Delicious, but Mom enjoyed it all night! Suppers are usually lighter, and more picnic-like with more bread and cheese and sliced meat and yoghurt and fruit.

We didn't tell you about the place we're staying. It's behind a farmhouse and is a remodelled bakery house. It used to be used to bake bread. It looks out onto the cow fields (Mom loves the eau de cow) and we watch birds and rabbits playing the fields. Really!

This little cottage is a charming place with the main floor fully equipped for cooking, eating and relaxing (everything from videos to puzzles). There's a plant or fresh field flowers on every flat surface. Upstairs there are two bedrooms and at night we can hear things skittering across the roof. Actually, we love it. It's spotless and very, very comfortable.

That's all for now!

Europe #6 - Kristiansand, Norway

Words fail me.

Well, not exactly, but I do feel rather overwhelmed. So much has happened since yesterday.

1. Last night I had an email response from one of the Beulink family that is still living in Holland. Our connection to such Beulink's has to be at least 200 years old. Our connection to the Norwegian Beurlings is only 100 years old. This young woman wrote to me in response to a message I left on a genealogy forum many months ago. In fact, I'd forgotten all about it. Unbelievable timing! She still lives in a village near the town our family originally came from! I emailed her immediately to say that we'd be in that area on Monday, but I haven't heard back from her yet.

2. Tonight we had an email message from George, one of Mom & Dad's friends in Grenada. George wrote to say that he knows some Dutch people in Grenada named Beulink and will try to get more information for us. Go, George!

3. We spent the entire day with the Beurling clan of Norway. Wow! We met too many people and learned too many things today to do more than summarize coherently. One of the major highlights was when one of the older women who had married a Beurling showed us a very old photograph album. She didn't know who the people were, but hoped others would. Dad was looking over Hans' shoulder at the pictures. The first few pictures were of the earliest Beurlings in Norway (Grandpa's uncle & first cousins). Then Hans turned a page and Dad saw a photograph he recognized -- his grandfather, Gustaf Ferdinand Beurlingk, the one who brought his family to Canada. Needless to say, there was great excitement on the part of each branch of the family. I really enjoyed the woman who brought the photo album. She talked to us quite personably for a long time and not a word was in English. I have no idea what she was saying, but she said it charmingly!

We had a lot of fun seeing family resemblances. I'm sure the following details will be of greatest interest to other family members, so I won't try to identify or explain everything in detail . . .

We saw alot of big Beurling ears. There were so many, it became quite comical. We saw a little girl who could be the sister of my niece, Alyssa. We saw a young boy who could be my cousin, Ricky, at that age (about 12). I saw a young man who made me think of another cousin, Cricket.  (His Mom, Bjorg, told me in very broken English that he has just returned from a three-year mission trip to Mali.) We saw the broad faces many of us in Canada have. When they sang Norwegian folksongs, I could hear Auntie Gladys and Auntie Elsie. We met a cousin of Hans' who looks very much like Auntie Frieda. We met Hans' nephew, Fred Ivar, who I thought bore a striking resemblance to Uncle George. He was also the tallest Beurling I met, a good 6'2" I think.

I'd better stop for now. I have seen and heard too much and am too tired to make good sense of it. And we need to get up in less than six hours to catch the plane back to Amsterdam.

We had the most wonderful day. Hans just keeps sighing and saying, "It was a GOOD day." Dad just keeps sighing.

I'll write again when I can. We'll do our best to locate the Beulink family in Holland.

Europe #5 - Kristiansand, Norway

This morning we made it to our early plane at the Amsterdam airport in time. Of course, since it's Saturday, we didn't have to deal with too much traffic. We flew first to Copenhagen and then, on another plane, to Kristiansand. Mom was a little freaked out by the landing - there were rather severe cross winds and we sort of landed sideways!

Hans Gustav Beurling and his wife, Anna-Karin, met us at the airport with lots of hugs and welcome. Their house is only a few kilometres from the airport. The landscape here is just like Muskoka only with slightly bigger hills. We feel very much at home.

The Beurling family here knew that one branch of the family had gone to Canada. Hans also knew that the father in that family had a bad arm. Well, my g-g-grandfather, Gustaf Ferdinand Beurlingk, had lost an arm as a young man and is the one who brought his family to Canada. So, although we knew our branches were connected (because of dates and names we'd already collected), this sort of confirmed it for us emotionally. We feel very comfortable with them. We're staying with family!

Hans' youngest son, Steinar, reminds us very much of my brother, Steven, when he was a teenager. Steven, remember when you had big hair? That's what Steinar looks like right now, only he has dark brown hair and eyes. Pictures of him as a toddler also make me think of our cousin, Anne.

These Beurlings (at least Hans and his family) are shorter than we are. Hans is about my height or maybe a little taller than me (5'8") and they laughingly call themselves The Pygmy Family.

We spent the first hour or so sharing details about our families and what we knew of the Beurling history. One very interesting thing Hans shared was some oral history about Fredrik Hassels Beulink, our mutual g-g-g-grandfather (the one I mentioned yesterday). Fredrik Hassels emigrated from Holland to Sweden about 1810. I knew this. However, the Beurlings here talk about how he smuggled himself onto a ship and entered Sweden illegally. That's the stuff family history is made of!

Later in the afternoon, Hans and Anna-Karin took us into downtown Kristiansand, a town about the size of Barrie. We walked about on the pedestrian streets and then down by the harbour. We stopped at an outdoor café to have a late lunch of fish soup (blue mussels, shrimp, salmon) that was wonderful. It was sunny but cool and windy so soup hit the spot!

We've also noticed in photographs that Hans' father (who died a few years ago) had the same ears that the Canadian Beurlings usually have - big! Hans himself missed out on that privilege.

Hans' father and his father's two brothers have all passed away in the last couple of years. At least two died of cancer. The saddest note is that the last uncle was buried the day before we arrived. He was looking forward to our visit. Hans and Anna-Karin took us to the cemetery yesterday where their family is buried. We saw the graves of about seven or eight Beurlings, including their g-grandfather Karl Alfred, the brother of my g-grandfather, Gustaf Ferdinand. Gustaf Ferdinand is buried in Coquitlam, British Columbia.

We had a late supper with Hans and family, including his daughter, Torunn (pronounced Too-rrrrrun) and her boyfriend. It turns out the boyfriend, Ken, was in Australia last fall at the same time as me.

Mom nearly fell asleep right on the sofa - of course, we were watching Dad's videos at the time - so we headed for bed. (Dad says that if you need a good sleep he'd be glad to show you his videos when we get home.) We did find out at that point that Hans has the Beurling sleep gene! He can fall asleep at any time, anywhere.

We'll let you know how the family reunion goes. We're going to that tomorrow morning. They're holding it in the barn of a local mansion. I guess it's a facility that is rented out for events like this. It's by a river and sounds very attractive.

Love to all!

Europe #4 - Noord Holland, Netherlands

If we don't find a laundromat soon, we're going to have to buy new clothes!

This morning, after another hearty breakfast in our room (soft rolls, cheese, sliced meat, strawberries we bought in Bruges, coffee, juice), we drove into the nearby Volendam, a village where most of the residents wear traditional dress. We did see a few people dressed in the old-fashioned clothing, but 9:00 am seems to be too early for these folks. We wandered around the harbour, but none of the stores were open until 10. At 9:45, the church bells started ringing . . . and didn't stop for at least 15 minutes. No sleeping in here!

We stopped at the tourist information office to see if they could direct us to a laundry place and, as usual, the talk turned to the cold, wet, windy spring they're having. It sounds as if their weather here is usually more like Vancouver than Toronto. The woman working in the Tourist office told us about a winter they had that was remarkable for its snow and ice. The Winter of '63 had so much real winter weather that schools were closed for a week.

We still didn't find a laundry. Dad thinks we should throw all our clothes into the Jacuzzi for a while.

We headed next to Haarlem where we wanted to visit Corrie ten Boom's house - a must-see on our list. However, as we drove down the highway, we rather spontaneously decided to stop at a small outdoor folk museum (since it wasn't raining at the moment). This turned out to be a great stop for us, for several reasons.

1. They had great souvenir shopping. Mom and I had a great time browsing through the souvenir junk, while Dad videotaped Japanese tourists posing with giant wooden shoes. OK, Mom and I posed with the shoes, too.
2. We watched a demonstration of how to make wooden shoes. It was really interesting especially when, after explaining how they use wet wood for the shoes, the shoemaker put his mouth to the newly made shoe, blew hard, and forced a rather large amount of water from the wooden soles. There was also a fascinating exhibit of the history of wooden shoes (they've been around for at least 800 years). Not that I'm planning to buy any, you understand!
3. We also watched a licensed Delftware painter working on one of his plates. Very expensive stuff this. We didn't buy any.
4. Then we passed my favourite kind of store ... antiques and collectibles, housed in a very, very old house. (This is all on the property of the folk museum). One thing that caught my eye was a group of old wooden skates (they do have metal blades) that were worn over wooden shoes. We're talking about Hans Brinker here. The top of the skates (where the bottom of the shoe would be placed) were painted, rather like Grandpa Beurling painted on saws. I couldn't resist and now own an antique wooden Dutch skate.
5. The real highlight of this visit was the fact that one of the several working windmills they have at this museum makes linseed oil. The windmill's turning causes the mechanisms inside to pound and press linseed and rapeseed so that oil is produced; this is called olislaght-something. Dad and I watched it working from inside (very, very noisy process). Here's the significance: my great-great-great-grandfather, Fredrik Hassels Beulink, the Beurling who emigrated from Holland to Sweden about 1810, was a master oljeslagaren. In other words, producing linseed oil was his profession. We've known the Dutch and Swedish words for his occupation for some time, but no one - until today - was able to tell us what it meant! Needless to say, we were excited!

Later in the afternoon, we hightailed it to Haarlem 'cause Corrie was waiting. After driving fruitlessly in circles around the canals and teeny-tiny streets, we finally found a parking spot and walked to the ten Boom house. The bottom of the house is still a watch and jewellery store. The sign on the door said to stand in the street until the tour guide comes at 4:45. It was 4:30. We were really relieved that we'd arrived in time to catch an English tour. The guide was very relaxed and told the story of Corrie and her family and how the Lord worked in them and through them. It was quite thrilling. We were led through the family house (it's small, but not as cramped as I'd imagined) and, of course, the peak of the visit was in Corrie's bedroom where the actual hiding place is located. Six people hid for 2 1\2 days in that tiny space. Although Corrie and her family were arrested and sent to the camps, the Jewish people they were hiding there were never found by the nazis and escaped safely. I think this was our best stop in Holland.

Tomorrow morning we need to get up very, very, very early so that we can catch our 8 am plane to Norway. We still haven't found a laundry. The Jacuzzi is starting to sound better and better!

Europe #3 - Bruges, Belgium and Noord Holland, Netherlands

Well, several days have passed since we last had access to a computer. Let me bring you up to date ...

Before we left Toronto, the Alegria B&B sent us the following directions. We enjoyed reading them a great deal and wondered if we'd ever find this Bruges hotel.

. . . And here we go for some more INFO ON HOW TO FIND US BY CAR.
Coming in from
France, Paris.....by highway
You will drive straight ahead direction Brugge,
drive continiuously
straight ahead, you will than autamatic.
drive on the big ring around Bruges,
drive straight ahead, follow the indication
KUST,ZEEBRUGGE,BLANKENBERGE,
that means once off the highway you only have to drive straight ahead all
the time!!!!!!!
you will pass several lights, go into a tunnel,drive passed our old prison ( left hand side )
drive passed our new prison ( left hand side )
at about 2 km you will find on your right hand side
a BIG SHOPPING CENTER, with shoes and child
confection E.A.
Right after that center you will need to
drive off at the indication A.Z. ST JAN,
( hospital )drive straight ahead again, you
will pass 2 redlights which we count for one and
just behind the second lights( third ) you have to turn
left, straight ahead again, second lights right again,
there you are at the EZELSTRAAT,
that's the beginning of our street, straight ahead
once passed over the little bridge
turning with the road right and left again before the churchthere you are in the SINT JAKOBSSTRAAT now.
You will see a lot of flaggs HOTEL NAVARRA
at the right hand side,they have number 41,
ALEGRIA B&B is located a bit further on the left handside
NR 34 B. Please don't drive passed our house,
try to park the car on the pavement oposite our house,
we will open the parking for you who is located
the first little street on your left hand side
NAALDENSTRAAT NR 1
Voilà I think that's it, it realy is very easy to find,
If you get lost ( there could be roadworks )
please ask for the DE BIEKORF
( that's an underground parking just around the corner
a bit further than our private parking ) . . .

Believe it or not . . . "Voila, I think that's it!" . . . We found the directions to be completely accurate. The owner of this manor house that dates back to to the 1700's talks just like her written directions, as well. The hotel is only steps from the central market square, so it was a great location.

We had one full day in Bruges. In the morning we did a little shopping and then took one of the canal boat cruises. The boats are small and open, so it was good that we had a few hours of sunshine that morning. Unfortunately, we couldn't really hear the narration, but we sure enjoyed the water level view. I remember seeing gorgeous deep purple lilac blossoms hanging over the water from the tiny garden of an old manor house, water steps at most buildings, including churches, many geese and swans.

Afterward, Dad and I climbed the market square bell tower (366 steps). The view is terrific once you get there, but the staircase !!! It's a corkscrew staircase that grows progressively narrower and there are people constantly going up and going down simultaneously. Very scary.

Once Dad and I had recovered, we hopped on a mini-bus that gave us a great city tour. We drove through streets we would never have reached on foot. Some of the streets were so narrow, I don't know how the bus made it! Dad videotaped much of the tour and, once in a while, you can hear Mom gasp.

It was a terrific day!

After a rest in our room, we had a wonderful dinner of Flemish stew at one of the outdoor market square cafes. We started out eating on the covered porch of the restaurant but, when the rain started to pour (it was a deluge), and the winds began to howl, we moved inside next to the fireplace.

The next morning, after another hearty breakfast at the hotel and buying picnic supplies at the outdoor market, we drove north into Holland. We still haven't been stopped at any customs location. The only people who have looked at our passports have been bank staff when we cash travellers cheques. The entry into Holland was just a sign along the road. We took a short ferry (6 km) across into the delta area of Holland (sw Holland) and then we drove north along dikes. In order to reach our next hotel in Noord Holland, we drove through the very urban areas of Le Havre and Rotterdam. We saw enormous shipping locations along the harbour areas. Very impressive.

Most of this day was pouring rain and we weren't able to visit the tulip fields this afternoon as we'd hoped. Instead, we stopped near Leiden for a leisurely lunch at a traditional pancake house. Dutch pancakes are what we in North America call crepes . . . with no maple syrup in sight! Our dinner pancake had chicken and a mild fruit sauce. It sounds strange, but was delicious.
We finally reached the area north of Amsterdam where we started to look for our next hotel. I had booked three nights at Hotel Edam Farm, a renovated stable on a traditional Dutch farm. We found the village of Middelie where it was supposed to be located. We drove and drove and drove around the back roads of the polder, looking for the elusive hotel. Nothing. It was getting wetter and wetter and Mom was sure we were going to end up with the swans and herons in one of the MANY canals.Finally, we found a auto repair shop where they spoke some English. Our hotel was one canal-road over. We finally found it! There are cattle (including a long-horn steer), a llama, sheep and goats in the yard. Our room was very large and had a jacuzzi, or as the owner pronounced it, yacussi.

It finally cleared during the evening, though it remained very windy. After a snooze, we drove north to the Great Enclosing Dike. This dike has cut off the sea from the huge bay in the centre of Holland. It has allowed them to replace the bay seawater with fresh water and drain some of it to create new land. Holland is such a tiny country and has a large population (60 million), they can use every acre they can find. (Even with that large population, we haven't found that there is an overcrowded feeling.) The dike is an engineering marvel. At one point along the dike, we saw between 30 and 40 swans sheltering against a small spit of land.

After we left the dike, we drove slowly back to our farm hotel through tulip fields and picturesque villages. We were really pleased to see the tulip fields. Because the spring is so late this year, some are still in blossom. Once the plants are in full blossom, the farmers cut off all the colourful heads - you see piles of blossoms decomposing at the ends of the fields - so that all the plant's energy goes into the bulbs. Fields of red or yellow or orange really are thrilling to see.

Early Thursday morning (I mean early!), we headed to the Aalsmeer Flower Auction. This was a really interesting place to see after the tulip fields the night before. The auction takes place in one of the largest buildings in the world. It is the size of 125 soccer fields. Every weekday they sell millions of plants - literally! The tour consists of walking along a catwalk that is suspended over the central part of the building. From there you can look down on innumerable flowers and plants that will be shipped the same day around the world to be sold in florist shops, etc. The staff (thousands of people in total) are moving around the facility like busy bees, some walking, some riding bicycles to get from one side of the building to the other, some are driving little vehicles that trail trolleys of flowers behind them. There's quite a cacophony of noise echoing about the place - machines, shouting and calling. You can't even say the flowers are completely silent, though their noise is in the pungent smell that hits you like a tide as soon as you enter the building.

After being saturated with the flowers, we headed into the centre of Amsterdam to visit the Van Gogh Museum. We got there just as it opened (wheelchair parking just in front of the museum!) and so had a chance to view the impressionist's work without huge crowds. I really enjoyed this visit; van Gogh has always been one of my favourites. Mom wasn't thrilled with his aggressive style. However, we all enjoyed later in the day the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem.

Our intent had been to stay the day in Amsterdam, walking through the old centre, taking a canal cruise, etc., but when we left the Van Gogh Museum, there was a torrential downpour. It just wasn't worth it. So we headed to Haarlem. The Frans Hals Museum was of great interest to Dad and me since we'd earlier read a book about Frans Hals, a Haarlem painter in the 1600s. The museum was terrific, with works by Hals and many of his contemporaries. I highly recommend it.

One very interesting thing we saw at the Frans Hals Museum was a 17th century doll house - about seven feet high and built into a beautiful chinoiserie cabinet. The paintings on the walls of the dollhouse rooms were done by a well-known artist of the day. We're not talking Fisher-Price here.

That's all for now!

Europe #2 - Vimy, France

Today we drove from Normandy through northeastern France to Belgium. Our first stop at the crack of dawn (almost) was the D-Day beaches. Very moving. We saw the remains of the artificial harbour the Allies left at Arromanches.

We continued north and, when we reached the mouth of the Seine River, we stopped at a service centre for some breakfast. This poor excuse for a cafeteria gave us a TINY cup of coffee you could stand a spoon in. No cream. But good croissants.

Later, after driving on a very back road (one lane, two way traffic, pouring rain, soggy ground), we stopped in a remote French village hoping to find sustenance. One little restaurant we saw was closed because it was Monday. Desperate for nutrition, we stopped, parking on the sidewalk like everyone else, at a little hole-in-the-wall brasserie where a little dog was barking at us from the top of one of the tables. Nevertheless, we had a terrific lunch -- warm soup (great on a cold, wet day), great bread (no butter), Hache Parementiere (shepherd's pie), a fresh rhubarb tart (pie). It was fabulous.


A little later, we stopped at the Canadian National Memorial at Vimy Ridge (Canadians: if you don't know about this piece of Canadian history, look it up! Americans: this battle took place during WWI and was a sight of great moment for us Canucks.) Mom's grandfather was posted to this area in 1917 and lost his leg soon after when he stepped on a mine. There are many mines still unexploded in the fields of this region. Farmers are killed every year. We toured the trenches/tunnels. It was very moving. Some are as much as 25 m underground.

Tonight we're staying in Bruges -- a beautiful medieval town. Beligum is famous for their French Fries served with sauces, especially mayonnaise. We had some for supper and the waitress gave us six sample of sauces. Some were very spicy!

That's all for now. Love to all.

Stay tuned for our next adventure in Bruges and then in Holland.

Europe #1 - The Golden Tour Begins in Normandy, France

My parents, Joan and Rick, and I spent almost two years planning this trip. My research started with tour books and moved on to the Internet. I booked "virtually" everything through the Internet, email or fax. That's from airline tickets to hotels to tickets for a German musical! We stayed in small family-run hotels (1 - 3 stars) and leased a Renault. Our itinerary included: France, Belgium, Netherlands, Norway, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Italy and Monaco.

The excuse we give for this five-week driving adventure is their 50th wedding anniversary later this year.  Five weeks ... one week per decade.  Sounds reasonable to me!

End of Trip Disclaimer: Now that we're home, my inclination is to edit this travelogue to fill in the blanks, add more sightseeing or historical details, correct my grammar, spelling and typos and generally make everything more coherent. But I'm going to resist. What you have before you is the way it was! We created our travelogues with the excitement of the day's experiences upon us. And on foreign language keyboards! And in dark internet cafes with raucous music in the background, inhaling mysterious secondhand smoke. And we did it quickly; time is money when you're buying internet minutes. So there it is ... enjoy!  JB

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Well, we're finally on our way. My brother, John, left us at the airport and, after checking in, we had supper at the Swiss Chalet (comfort food). Our flight was horrible -- teeny-tiny seats with very yucky food. However, we made it to Paris without any serious problems.

We also picked up our car very easily. We've leased a Renault Kangoo. It's silver and Dad says, "It only had eight km on the odometre. It's an ugly little car that I'm sure only its designers could love. But, you know what, we really like it. It's quick and responsive. The standard transmission is ultra smooth and runs really quietly on five forward gears. Its diesel motor is very efficient and costs less to run." In France the diesel oil was about 5.36 F ($1.14) per litre, while regular gas was about 7.50 F ($1.60).

We immediately drove through Paris and the French countryside to Normandy where we were going to spend two nights at the Hotel d'Argouges in Bayeux. Mom says, "We saw lots of sheep. All the houses look the same -- old. There's very little graffiti, no litter, fabulous roads, no potholes."

We're exhausted. But tomorrow we head to the very old and remarkable Mont-Saint-Michel.

The last time I flew to Israel, the El Al airline magazine at every seat contained the following prayer:

"The Lord bless thee, keep thee, the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee, the Lord turn His face unto thee, and give thee peace. May it be Thy will, Lord of Heaven and Earth, to lead us to peace and safety, to fly us in peace and safety to our desired destination to find life, joy and peace. Guard and watch us who fly the air routes and cross the seaways and travel the overland passes. Make firm the hands that guide the steering and sustain their spirit, so that they may lead us in peace and safety. For in You alone is our shelter from now until eternity. Amen."

Amen!