Last Sunday, Pete and I made a day trip to Friesland in the North of Holland. As best we can tell, Friesland is where his Mennonite ancestors came from. We managed to git ourselves some same-day discount fare tickets and so decided to make the three-hour-each-way voyage in one day. Hmph. First error.

Weather Underground assured sunny skies and a high of 9, but the fields were covered in thick fog the entire way there. Now, I rather like a bit of fog. It's so unusual for me landlocked as I was in Ontario -- oh but how magical it was when I was a child in Calgary when rare fog--clouds, really--would descend from the mountains and settle over the city. I remember feeling singularly safe in those mountain-borne mists -- hemmed dreamily in. It suited me just fine.

However, three hours of train travel seeing naught beyond a foot does not suit me... I was so excited to see the countryside -- it being one my favourite aspects of travel. In the end, I saw very little -- and no Frisian cows! The latter, however, are littered the world over, so I guess I can live with not seeing Frisian cows in Friesland.

At midday we arrived in Leuwarden, the capital of the Friesian province, and intended to go onward to the sea and catch a ferry to Ameland Island. Alas, this was not to be -- we were told there were no more boats running. This country really literally shuts down on a Sunday. [While fundamentalist friends of my parents might like the idea of this, it doesn't suit me at all! Tho I do confess that the Dutch really know how to separate between work and play -- they work moderately and play hard. All the shops close at 6pm every night, also. We've learned to work around it, and grudgingly admit that it's nice not to have to run errands after 7pm.]

So we found ourselves stuck in the capital of Friesland, with most everything closed (the island wouldn't have been closed, incidentally - it's all about renting a bike and riding the paths crisscrossing the place). We ended up having lunch and then high tea at a hotel across from the train station.

The food was terrible.

Like, really terrible.

The scones were the most miserable foodstuff I have ever come across. Felt some pity for those scones. Still do.

In the end we had to laugh at the dismal food, dismal travel, and our own grumpy selves. The fog cleared a bit and we wandered to the centre of the old town. It was lovely and in its own way, very different from all the other Dutch cities we've seen thus far. The squares downtown were so vast and rolling on either side of the canals -- so much room for an old town that hadn't been bombed in the war. Of particular note was an unfinished church tower (lacking a church) leaning crazily to one side looking liable to collapse at any moment. Will send out pics soon!

On the corner of the Westerstraat watching people on the outdoor market. It is raining. I am the only one sitting outside on a cafe terrace watching-
the bohemian
the gypsy
the tourists and cloth sellers
women in hijabs
and very tall blondes

I am waiting, I say.
In de regen
in the rain.
een thee met melk
een appel tart
alstublieft
if you please.

I cradle my lunch
close to me
shield it from the showers.
I smile at the ones who I (in my great wisdom)
think could use it
-and still I am waiting

At last,
A blazing four minutes and twenty seconds of sunlight and blue sky.
In this country, in the winter, you learn to worship the sun
if only arising from the long pursuit.