We checked out of the Hotel Koffiebuntje and took a very harrowing cab ride to the train station. I was sitting in the front seat and was terrified that the grill was going to be littered with the remains of horses, people and bicycles. Ack. Fortunately, it was short. Both in distance, and in time because he was driving so fast. I think he thought he'd give the older American ladies a thrill, because he kept winking at me. He'd obviously done this before.
When we got to the station, it was packed. We found out that many trains had to be rerouted because of a suicide-by-train somewhere on the track toward Brussels. Made me sad for the train driver, I can't imagine having that happen.
We'd gotten there early, thank goodness, so we stood in the long slow line with all the people who were trying to figure out how to get home on the day after Christmas. The very helpful woman at the ticketing booth told us the best route and found a really good price for our tickets. And the signage and the whole train system in both Belgium and the Netherlands are so good, it's amazingly easy to get around. And the people were so helpful too, including helping us lift our cases up to the racks above the seats. We hadn't had to do that before, but the day after Christmas was a really busy day, even without the extra stress on the system.
It was a long day of sitting, and chaning trains twice, but it worked out fine. One of the highlights of the train was a Middle Eastern man who lives in Rotterdam. He was coming back home after taking the train somewhere to pick up a pink bike for his young daughter, and he took it upon himself to teach us how to pronounce Dutch! It was an experience, what with his home accent, the Dutch on top of it, and the English on top of that. He was talking mainly to Nancy W, and I just sat there savoring it.
We took three trains to get to Schipool (think "ski pole", if you slightly swallow the sk and soften the o) airport in Amsterdam, where we'd started our journey 9 days earlier. We took a shuttle to our hotel, which was very close to the airport. And it had a really good Italian restaurant in it. We were hungry, and dinner was fabulous. We ended the night by finishing off the cherry beer I'd bought in Bruges. And of course packing for the long air legs the next day.
When we got ready to head back to Schipol, we were glad we were leaving rather than arriving--it was really gray and wet out there, and cold, not a pretty morning at all and unlikely to get better. It was another long day of travel: 3 hours Schipol to Keflavik (in Reykjavik), then 7.5 hours KEF to DEN.
Nancy W was sitting by a window on the flight from Kevlavik to Denver, and took this picture from the window. Gorgeous, and COLD. I watched the flight info on my TV for a good part of the flight, and it was around -50C most of the time.
Coming through customs in Denver we got behind a group that had just gotten in from Mexico, so the lines were very long. There's a new system at DIA we hadn't seen before. There are a lot of machines before you even get to your luggage, where you scan your passport and answer customs declaration questions. Took forever for the machine I was on to scan my passport, and the picture the machine took of me should never, ever see the light of day. God. I looked completely exhausted, and very confused. Maybe drooling. Thank god it stayed with customs, and I hope they shred it. As soon as possible.
Donna picked us up and we all got home in good order, very happy to see our beds. And Piseag, our cat, was very happy to see us.
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