Day 6: Windmills and water

Our day started out with a hurried I'm not-running-I'm-walking pseudo run towards the Paris North Train Station; we'd stayed up pretty late after succumbing to the allure of Montmartre. Of course, nobody is too late to purchase (another) baguette... or a chocolate pastry. Like my sister says, it'd be a shame to look back on one's life and say, "I wish I'd eaten that pastry/dessert/dish." 

There was a fancy (potable) water fountain outside the patisserie, so we refilled our bottles, too.

We picked up our car from the station, said "au revoir!" as we battled Paris traffic and "goedemiddag" after we passed through Belgium into The Netherlands.

The landscape of northern France was beautiful: gently rolling hills of grasses and farmland, separated by rows of deciduous trees. Actually, it reminded me quite a lot of the Willamette Valley in Oregon. The biggest difference was that instead of occasionally seeing truck stops or strip malls in Oregon, we would pass by quaint towns dotted with steepled churches.

It was clear that this region and Belgium experiences a pretty steady wind pattern; it was not unusual to pass electricity-producing windmills, churning away.

The border crossing into Belgium was pretty uneventful. I didn't know if there would be checkpoints, but there was hardly any fanfare at all! I saw maybe two smallish signs with "Belgium" written on it and a few stars. I barely had time to ready my phone camera before they passed, but I'm assuming this sign with a rooster on it says "Welcome to Belgium" or something friendly.

The terrain changed slowly to very flat lowlands, and the grassy fields were separated by channels for draining the water. In addition to electric windmills, we saw the occasional (antiquated?) water-pumping windmill. And instead of blue skies and friendly fluffy clouds, the sky was filled with gray clouds, showering liquid sunshine.

As we arrived in Haarlem to check in (a small town to the west of Amsterdam), I was really impressed to see how unimpressed the locals were with the weather. Being an Oregonian, I take pride in not owning an umbrella, so I felt a sort of kinship with these people. I mean, they were riding bicycles and were, McMayla Maroney-ing the rain, totally unaffected by it. I saw one guy walking down the road with groceries in his hand, with has rain jacket hood draped on his shoulders, rather than using it.

To blend in with the locals, we took a self-guided walking tour around town. Rain's no biggie for us.

Much of the architecture of the town reminded me of the villages that I would drive through in the Czech Republic, with colorful, stepped gables.

Bicycling is a major form of transportation here, and we saw a garage next to a bus terminal that stored bikes. Here's a shot from a mostly unsuccessful attempt at photographing the garage. I felt really creepy taking a picture of the garage, and I think it shows in the composition of the image. Winner.

Then.... the sun came out! We enjoyed the last several blocks basking in the glow of that burning orb.

Though, I mean, it's not like we need it to have a good day (but a bit does help).