We flew from London to Amsterdam via the Stansted airport. This airport seemed like it was more about shopping than traveling. The hall twisted through shops and merchants making it impossible to walk a straight line between gates--and there were almost no places to sit. We ended up bunched together on the floor waiting for our train.
Our flight to Amsterdam was uneventful, as all good flights should be. We arrived early evening, picked up our rental car, and headed for Alkmaar, a city where Larry had served as a missionary nearly forty years ago. I was so grateful we had daylight for most of our trip because I loved the wide open fields, the charming farmland, and the occasional windmill.
The light was fading by the time we found the street where Larry had lived in a charming brick house across from a shady canal--at the end of the street a magnificent windmill.
We spent the next day at the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum and walking to Anne Frank's house. (We weren't able to get tickets, so we just walked by it.) For lunch, we picked up food at a grocery store and Larry bought some of his favorite missionary food--a waffle sort of cookie filled with a maple syrup and a drinkable sort of yogurt that tasted--to me--like liquid bubble gum, although it did have a picture of strawberries on it.
We were running late for our train to Paris so Larry dropped us off at the station while he returned the rental car. The rental car attendant took mercy on him and offered to drive him back to the station. But then he--the attendant-- got lost and ended up driving the wrong way on a one way street. Realizing his mistake, he put the car in reverse and tried to back down a ramp. When the police arrived, the attendant reached over to the passenger side door, pushed it open, and told Larry to run.
He did make the train, and we were soon on our way to Paris. Pictures to follow