An entry in the TFS Travel Journal.
We were, as usual, the last to leave the hotel en route to our 11:00am meeting time at St. Janskerk in Gouda (How-dah). Made only one wrong turn along the way which was remedied after a few km extra riding. Very nice ride through farm fields and tree groves, with periodic delays for cattle-herd moving.
Wendy made a new local biking friend — Evelynia — while waiting for one herd to clear the road, and they rode together for several km. Arrived at the church and took the one-hour tour with a witty bibliophile who was a bit too chauvanistic for Wendy. Fascinating building from the 1500s with the longest nave in the Netherlands, and one of the largest, most incredible collections of stained glass in the world. Over 60 windows, all very large, and with spectacular detailing. We then walked the town for a little while — vibrant central square with a large market in progress (Saturdays and Thursdays) surrounding a large gothic-lego type city hall.
We lunched at an Italian outdoor cafe and enjoyed a pizza bolognese and a salad nicoise. Both were pretty tasty, and a welcome diversion from the usual B & R gastronomic fare; Milton finally got his Weiss Beer, with a lemon slice, which was good enough to merit a second round. Since we were relegated to the early massage times (3:30-4:30), we hopped on our bikes and zipped home, riding at times along a dyke that was clearly the busy thoroughfare of all local bikers, from racers to people carrying their errands, but all in a nice orderly manner.
As Milton was still attempting to defeat this virus, Wendy took the hour. A bit too European (regarding nudity of the client and the male masseur) and routine (regarding the technique) for our taste, but better than none.
Milton used the time to visit and climb up the next-door windmill, which proved moderately interesting. We relaxed until dinner which we shared with Michel and Charlotte and John and Charlene. Starters were a pastrami (really) and sweet pepper salad and a vitello (veal) and tuna dish. Entrees were poached sole and a big slab of beef. Things were fine and light until Milton began to tell Charlotte an off-color trading floor story (after many somewhat similar stories were solicited by her the other night) which, as the rest of the table had gotten quiet, he then told to everyone, despite Wendy’s attempts to diplomatically stop him. At the conclusion, John, the good, older Episcopalean unabashedly expressed his offense and his resulting opinion of the morality of the story-teller. This proved a momentary tense and awkward lull in the evening, but we all persevered. Don’t think we’ll be invited to picnic with them tomorrow. . .
We sampled virtually all the dessert chocolates, and then came upstairs to read and relax.