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We managed to fit in a trip to Sicily at the end of our European adventure. Sicily or Sicilia in Italian conjures up images of good fellows, heavy Italian food, sun and sea. Well it lived up to the sun and sea part. The food was good and surprisingly light and Mediterranean influenced. I am not sure how much of the mob we actually saw but it seemed like there were plenty of guys who wanted to look like they are connected. Driving down the road in our little rented Fiat Panda I would often see a couple of big new Mercedes approaching at about twice the speed limit flashing their headlights. I quickly pulled into the next lane out of their way. No need to tempt fate.

Sicily - Fiat Panda!

The island is amazing. It is Italian but its own version. As soon as you fly into Palermo airport you can see mountains that drop into the crashing sea. I think this isolation allows the island to be a nation and culture of its own.

We drove first to Taormina. It is known as a playground for the jet set. It lives up to expectations with jaw dropping scenery and many tourist amenities. Our hotel overlooked the Mediterranean and was surrounded by cliffs. The old town is actually up on the cliffs above the motorway. It is easiest the access by bus. I tried to drive up but was turned around after being forced through a maze of one way cobbled streets and such steep grades that I thought we might topple over. Not a parking spot in sight. The food is impressive. We found a restaurant that specialized in slow food. Everything was local and in season. The climate of Sicily lends itself to a variety of food we normally do not get fresh. It is exciting to taste the taste citrus the way it is meant to be fresh from the tree. The blood orange salad was surprising in its simplicity and elegance.
Sicily - Veranda of Hotel
Sicily - Taormina - Greek Theater

Climbing up the hill there is amazing vistas of the ocean a 1000 feet below and the smoking Mt. Etna close by. You can see both from a Greek theater overlooking the city. The little town of Castelmolla seems to be a fairytale capping off the top of a mountain. Certainly the location is secure but it seems impossible for the original owners to have built this in ancient times.

Sicily - Taormina

Sicily - Taormina

I had thought there was rock climbing nearby but found out that it actually was located on the other side of the island. We cut our stay in Taormina short and head south. In an hour we found our selves at the base of a ski area on Mt. Etna. The 10,000 foot mountain seems like it would fit right in the Oregon Cascades. I of course wanted to climb it. It took a few hours but we were able to knock off most of the mountain. I am sure that on a clear day one could see the mainland of Italy. As it was we could see the ocean through the mist. When the staff was not looking we jumped on the gondola for a ride down to the car.

From Mt Etna we headed down to Siracusa known as Syracuse in English. I grew up in the city of Syracuse in Upstate NY. I have always intrigued by this city that shared the same name. Siracusa turned out to have an amazing history. It was settled by the Greeks and was a thriving city in 300BC. The old city on the island of Ortigia contains numerous Greek temples and medieval churches. The city felt full of the weight of history. A run through the city allowed us to see the real city curtained behind walled courtyards. In walking distance were the ruins of a Greek Theater and a Roman Amphitheater as well as the quarry where they cut the stone. All of this in the heart of a busy city.


A couple days of Siracusa has us longing for some wide open space so we headed west to a town I head read about called San Vito lo Capo. The destination seemed to be predestined since Suzy had a found an Italian guide booking devoted to beaches in the area. The attraction to me was the reports of rock climbing by the ocean- my favorite combination.

On the trip across the island back through Palermo I found it a challenge to keep an eye on the road with the mountainous countryside unrolling along the highway. It is indeed a highway. The autostradas seem to be either elevated on concrete pillars contained in tunnels driven through the mountainsides. I am not sure if it was all necessary but does add of good dose of fahrvergnügen. The little Panda kept pounding around the curves and down the road.

San Vito lo Capo is a good as hoped. It seemed to be an old fishing town cum holiday retreat sent beneath towering cliffs. Based on the German hotel signs few American make it that far but it is reputed to be packing July through September. In April it was just waking up from its winter nap. The gem of the town is a camping area called El Bahira. A camping and RV park with a beautiful pool and million dollar view. In the last four years a few climbers from the UK and Germany have bolted hundreds of rock climbing routes. They are well bolted with stainless steel to avoid corrosion from the sea. This detail was a welcome sight after the ropes that filled in for bolts in Thailand. We were lucky enough to meet the guys who put up the routes as a party held for the climbers. They were good enough to loan us some gear and we were off to do some routes. It was some of the best climbing I can remember. The Sirocco winds from Africa sent perfect temperatures up the cliffs. The limestone was satisfyingly steep and crisp. A perfect cap to the trip.
Sicily San Vito lo Capo

Heading back to Palearmo we stopped an amazing temple in Segesta. It is one of the most intact Doric temples around. The unbelievably old the columns seem like they could host a cult’s ceremonies today. The temple and an ancient theater are set in field filled with wildflowers.
Sicily Segesta
Sicily Segesta

It was a bit sad to leave the happy Italian island. I will be back someday for some history, mountains and sea.


We got the chance to visit Norway last weekend. Our old friend Kim and new friends Bjørn and Karel just moved to a little town north of Trondheim called Steinkjer. I think the next train stop is the Arctic Circle. They have an amazing view of fjords that were once the home of marauding Vikings. They showed us the snow covered sights. I even scared up a juvenile moose on a run from the house. They are big and move surprisingly quickly!

Norway Top 10

1. Kim, Bjørn and Karel (ok, that’s 3, but they all tied for #1!)

2. Fjords!
3. Red barns everywhere
4. $30 bowl of soup. Not fancy soup; just soup.

5. Farm tour of Steinkjer and surroundings
6. Snø

7. Hills, real hills. Mountain hills!
8. Brown cheese
9. Learning Norwegian from a 2 year-old
10. Churches perched on hills overlooking fjords
11. Reindeer taste better than beef!
12. Moose!

Last weekend, Evan and I met in Paris. I took the train up from Nürnberg and he drove down through Belgium and northern France. I arrived a few hours earlier, so enjoyed a relaxing afternoon finding our hotel in the Saint Germain district and walking around in the crisp afternoon sunshine.

I was pleased to find that our hotel was in a great area, near many shops, bakeries restaurants and even the local Saint Germain market. We booked through Hotwire, so had no idea what to expect other than a very tiny hotel room – standard for Paris. I was pleasantly surprised to find a nice place with a terrace overlooking the bustling street below. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time enjoying my view from the room since the sun was shining and I wanted to get out and explore.

My first stop was Notre Dame, a few blocks away. I strolled over along the Siene River, past all the hawkers selling vintage-style postcards and advertisements for French products along the sidewalk. Their wares are all stored in neat little green wooden boxes that line the sidewalk, and which are loaded up and locked each night with all their belongings. Seeing as it was a Friday afternoon in the sunshine, most were already closed, and some were just packing up their stools, hats and gloves as I passed by.

I arrived at Notre Dame just as the afternoon sun sent off shades of amber and honey throughout the city. Windows glinted, and otherwise gray buildings turned to caramel in the fading daylight. On I walked, through the sprawling grounds of the cathedral. I was most impressed by the sense of space and enormity of this structure and the city that beheld it. Coming from compact, gezellig (cozy) Amsterdam, I could immediately sense the spatial difference in Paris and relished in its openness.
As I was walking, I caught whiffs of melting butter, chocolate and bakery deliciousness in the air. The only other place I’ve had this experience was in Belgium, where the place literally smelled like sweet waffles. Oh those Belgian waffles. I’ll never get over how good they were. It didn’t take me long to walk to the nearest boulangerie and begin my gastronomic tour of Paris. A croissant and piece of quiche later, I found a bench overlooking Boulevard Saint Germain and sat down to enjoy my feast as I watched people head home after work. Nearly everyone carried a bag with a baguette or two poking out the top. Others stopped by the corner florist to pick up a bouquet of flowers, another European ritual I admire.

I went to a small grocery store and picked up a few Paris necessities: a nice bottle of Bordeaux, a baguette and some pungent cheese. After spending 15 minutes deciding which cheese to buy, I had a moment of panic: we don’t have a bottle opener for the wine! Should I get a twist-off? And then I remembered: I’m in France. Of course our hotel is going to have a bottle opener for me to borrow. And of course our room has two wine glasses in it, just like any other normal French hotel room would. Now I looked just like any other Parisian – heading home after work with a baguette sticking out of my shopping bag, a bottle of wine and some cheese to enjoy with Evan.
Our snacks turned out to be dinner, which was followed by a midnight walk through the city. Somehow after a 7-hour train ride from Germany and an equally long drive from the Netherlands, neither of us were tired. Or maybe we were just really excited to be in Paris and didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

We walked again along the Siene River and took in Notre Dame by dark. I was surprised that it wasn’t lit up, since that seems to be standard practice in most European cities to show off their amazing structures. Through the dark grounds, along the river and past a clown who had set up on a nearby bridge. It looked like we just missed his display of fire, water and something to do with a bicycle and umbrellas, but the spectacle of his clean-up process was enough to give us a chuckle.

We then happened upon what we thought at the time was the Louvre – an immense building with the iconic glass triangle entrance. We were pretty impressed with ourselves for finding it at midnight and without a map, and at the same time were a bit disappointed with how average it looked in comparison to the rest of the buildings we’d passed. Somehow we had thought it would be more amazing since everyone who has been to Paris raves about it.

The most interesting thing at this so-called Louvre was the team of novice ice hockey players in the midst of a heated midnight match! Their talents varied widely, but all played like it was the most important game of their lives, decked out in soaking wet acid-washed jeans (due to all their falls), and naturally sans-safety gear. Nearby, we saw a huge peleton of cyclists ride by, all suited up in reflective gear and lights for yet another midnight activity in Paris. I guess that’s just what you do in the City of Lights.

Our midnight tour concluded, we headed back to our hotel for a quick sleep before embarking on the next day’s activities. Our favorite way to see a new place is on foot during a morning run. So we headed out in the bright Saturday sunshine for a run through Paris. Once again, the scent of amazing food brought with it pangs of hunger, but we persevered and made our way west through the city along the bank of the Siene River.

The huge cobblestones lining the river path gave our ankles a good workout as we slowly realized that the structure we had found last night was definitely NOT the Louvre! The real Louvre could never have been disappointing, as it stood immense and grand in the center of the city. We ran through the massive grounds, past the gardens and to the other end. We contemplated continuing to run to the Eiffel Tower or Champs Elysees, but decided we would return to see those two landmarks later in the day, after a nice breakfast and coffee.

Feeling refreshed and mellow after our amazing run through the city, we headed to the Saint Germain market. We have grown to love the little organic market near our apartment in Amsterdam, but were blown away by the thoughtful presentation, huge variety and quality of food available at this neighborhood market. It made us wish our little hotel room had a kitchen so we could go home with a basket full of produce and make an amazing meal! We settled instead for a savory crepe, washed down with two delicious cups of coffee each to keep up our energy for the long day of walking ahead of us.

Map in hand, we headed out on foot from our little Saint Germain neighborhood with two goals in mind: Eiffel Tower and Champs Elysees. We figured we’d probably take the metro back, but since the sun was out we decided to walk and soak it up. And walk we did! As I have said, Paris is a place with a lot of space, and we covered nearly all of it on foot that day. We soaked up the winter sunshine and shielded ourselves from the crisp wind beneath our hoods and gloves. The cold wasn’t enough to quell our spirit of adventure, so on and on we walked taking in the space and taste of Paris on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Our walk was fueled by fresh pain au chocolate and brioche, along with lots of window shopping the amazing Easter-decorated patisseries on the way. Twelve miles and four tired feet later, we had experienced all the major landmarks of Paris, including the Luxembourg Gardens, Pantheon, Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees, the Louve and Notre Dame again.
Eiffel Tower

Arc de Triomphe

Hungry and exhausted, we finally made it back to our hotel and passed out for a few hours. We were given the name of a great restaurant in the area by one of Evan’s co-workers, and promised ourselves that we would wake up and have a nice French meal in Paris. Sleep nearly overtook our plans, but we forced ourselves awake, and our sore feet back into shoes.

We stepped into the tiny restaurant and were so glad we persevered. As we waited for our table, the host sang while pouring glasses of rosé for each eager customer lining the stairwell, entryway and any other available space that could be filled while waiting to be seated for a delicious meal. The restaurant was small and had two levels. The kitchen was downstairs, and the one and only waiter upstairs. So, orders were yelled down, and food was sent up via the tall French host singing and pouring wine for waiting customers. Frequent shouts of “garcon!”, lots of impatient yelling, coupled with whistling and singing definitely made for a lively atmosphere, and an unforgettable French mealtime experience. Oh, and the food was amazing too.
Our ‘Tour of Paris’ boxes checked for the most part, it was time to head north the following day, back to Amsterdam. Before we left, we headed out on one last run through the Luxembourg gardens. On our way there, we saw some other runners and were surprised to find that the Gardens are one of the main areas for runners in this area of Paris. Around the perimeter of the Gardens is a well-worn running path and a standard counter-clockwise direction for one’s daily run. We observed our French running counterparts and followed their lead through the Gardens, around and around three times, passing the same people, checking our pace and seeing who was going faster or slower than we were. As we headed out of the gardens, we saw one of our fellow runners who had just completed his last lap running home with two fresh baguettes in hand. Classic.
Jardin du Luxembourg
Another gorgeous morning of sunshine and crisp air made us reluctant to pack up the car and leave. So, we walked up the hill from our hotel, past the Pantheon again, and found another little market where we grabbed breakfast and some snacks for the long ride home. When it was clear we could stall no longer, we packed up the car and headed toward Versailles. The palace was somewhat on the way back to Amsterdam and we figured we couldn’t just leave France and not see Versailles.

Our trusty in-dash navigation system got us right to the palace before hordes of other tourists arrived. And it was our lucky day! The first Sunday of the month is free museum day in Paris and surrounding areas, so we enjoyed our free pass to the immense and massive grounds at Versailles. While the structure itself was impressive, we were more amazed at the finely manicured grounds that stretched on as far as you could see: lakes, fountains, angular-shaped bushes and trees forever in each direction. And runners! More runners than we had seen anywhere in all of Paris! Apparently they must come when it is free day at Versailles too, because the grounds were literally covered with runners going every which direction, through the gardens, along the lake shore, through the grass, effortlessly swishing past slow-moving tourists. I had a pang of jealousy, but knew there wasn’t enough time for a second run today.


So, we walked as much of the grounds as we could before we realized that the actual palace entry was free as well. We hadn’t planned on spending hours at Versailles, but we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to experience the history and grandeur of this landmark. The photos will do more justice to the place than my words. Amazing, immense, beautiful, grand just don’t capture the essence of Versailles.
Versailles Palace
The drive home to Amsterdam was gorgeous in the afternoon sunlight with farms on either side, rolling hills and quaint towns along the way. We took a detour in Lille, France, just before the Belgian border, to stretch our legs. We happened upon a town festival, so lingered a bit longer to hear some live music and partake in the festivities. Then we walked into the historic center to see if we could find my only remaining gastronomic wish: another authentic Belgian waffle. I was not disappointed, and was ecstatic to find freshly-ironed waffles on every corner. I settled on the one that offered the sweet cinnamon waffles. Heaven. From there, we continued our drive north through Gent, Antwerp, Rotterdam and eventually back home to ‘gezellig’ little Amsterdam.

Well, this is embarrassing. Last weekend we received two BEAUTIFUL pounds of fresh-roasted coffee beans direct from San Francisco. We were elated.

We would be even more elated if we could figure out how to turn these beans into a powdery substance suitable for brewing.

You see, coffee grinders are not something that are easy to come by here in Amsterdam. Or perhaps we’re missing something?

Four store checks in Amsterdam. No luck.

Three store checks in Hilversum, where we distinctly remember seeing an in-store coffee grinder. Our minds played tricks on us and that distinct coffee grinder is in fact a coffee maker.

Thus deflated and desperate, I am contemplating a mercy visit to Amsterdam’s only Starbucks.

They’ll understand my plight, being from the NW and all, right? They’ll be willing to grind my beautiful beans and turn them into precious granules capable of creating of dawn’s awakening serum, no?

Oh Michelle and Caspian – thank you for the beans. We can’t wait to tell you how much we’re savoring every drop they brew in our bright yellow espresso maker.

Our first piece of mail in Amsterdam. Thank you M + C!

Ritual Coffee

Ritual Coffee

I got a chance to go to Rome last weekend while Suzy was in Germany. It was a fun quick trip. I flew Airitalia. It seems like you are in Italy as soon as you step onboard. The Italians do not think the lines apply to them. The buzz on the airplane is a bit different than normal. After listening to Dutch for such a long time the sound of Italian is a welcome change.

Soon after getting my room and my bearings I headed down to the Trevi fountain for a slice of pizza. It lived up to expectations. I would be happy getting by on just the pizza. After that a quick drink at a pub.

The English have two great exports: the English language and their pubs. It seems like you can go nearly anywhere in the world and find a bit of comfort at a Brit pub. They are happy to have English speaking customers and there is a good chance to see a football or cricket match while you are at it. Rome is no exception.

I started first day full with a run to the coliseum. It is hard to believe it is real. It reminds me of something you might see in Las Vegas or Disney world. I am not sure how such a structure can be just standing there after a couple thousand years. Running is a great in a new city. You can see a lot in a short time. Even a crazy busy city like Rome can be see with a short run.

After a quick breakfast I was off the Vatican. With a bit of rain in the air it was good day to be indoors. On the way I stopped for coffee. I wanted a chocolate pastry but some how ended up with a cappuccino and hot chocolate. This turned out to be a good choice. It may have been the best cup of hot chocolate I have ever had.


Then a quick stop at a bakery where I ordered two cannolis. I ordered two mainly because can not remember how to day one and due it is fun to say Doo-ay!. So tasty. Onward toward St Peter’s Basilica. On the way there are many churches and statues that would be the centerpiece of most towns. Finally I arrive at St. Peters. It lives up to the postcards with soaring ceiling art, flamboyant marching Swiss guards and a church service in the middle of it all. I waited in line for the cupola with some Brits talking about their superior queuing abilities. The trip to the top is an adventure even for one who used to rock climbing. 500 steps to the top. The last 300 are within a narrow spiral staircase. The crowds and small space would give anyone claustrophobia. On and on we climb and then finally we arrive at the top. It was worth it with all of the Vatican and ancient Rome laid out below. The rain could not dampen to moment.
da pope's crib

Up next was the Sistine Chapel. A long walk around Vatican wall leads to the entrance to the Vatican museum. It is amazing what they built so long ago. It really puts the catholic religion into perspective. The hallway is covered in tapestries from the 1400s and the ceiling is an unending series of amazing paintings from the renaissance. Finally the chapel proper with the famous ceiling painted by Michelangelo around 1500. Its scale is amazing but the images are smaller than imagined. I pulled out my camera for a shot. I was just zooming in on the sections where the god and man touch when the guards points to a sign of a camera with an X and almost takes my camera. I guess you have to pay attention to the signs and gates. I got warned a couple more times by Vatican guards. I think they thought I was going to steal the Pope’s oranges. They do not have much of a sense of humor it seems. The rest of the trip went quickly. I was able to take home an great stove top espresso maker. It is a bight yellow and shinny. It really is a Ferrari of stove top coffee. I think it might replace my French press at home.


Oh Peanut Butter.  I thought I’d overcome my addiction to you.

Now I come to the Netherlands and I find you again, but under a different name: Pindakaas.  Cheese of the peanut.  That seems more accurate since you share many of the great qualities of cheese: that perfect balance between creamy, sweet and salty.

At first I resisted.  I’m over you, I thought.  I have graduated from pre-school peanut butter to more sophisticated Sunflower Seed Butter.  This butter I cannot find in the Netherlands, sadly.

One day alone at the grocery store, I see you standing there on the shelf.  I look around, try to walk away, and find I cannot resist you.

I buy the biggest jar of you there is.

I eat the contents of that jar in one week, just like the old days.  I’m hooked.

Pindakaas, you may have tempted me here in the Netherlands, but once I’m back in the land of Trader Joe’s, you’ll once again lose your grip on me.  You’ll be just regular old peanut butter and I’ll have my Trader Joe’s Sunflower Seed Butter to help me forget about you once again…


As a kid, I lived for weekends when my family would take me to Elmer’s for my favorite breakfast treat: a Dutch Baby.  I loved getting the puffy, steaming, cast iron pan-shaped delight and dousing it with maple syrup, lemon and powdered sugar.  The maple syrup part was my own invention and would not have passed the Dutch pancake authenticity test, but I preferred to think that it brought out the complex flavors of the caramelized pancake crust.

Now in the Netherlands, I have of course been fascinated with Dutch Pannenkoeken.  I got my first real introduction to them a few years back in New Zealand of all places.  Prior to that, my only Dutch pancake experience was limited to my beloved Elmer’s Dutch Baby.

Evan and I were staying in a hostel at the foot of Mt. Cook – New Zealand’s highest mountain.  We had just returned from the semi-harrowing experience of descending an adjacent peak in extreme winds and white-out conditions.  As with other guests in the hostel, we prepared our meal in the shared kitchen.  Next to us were two blondes – a Dutch couple we discerned from their hushed talking – whom we’d seen at a few other hostels in other towns along our journey through the South Island.

The couple was making pancakes – piles of pancakes.  Nice thin little mini-crepes and they just kept piling them on top of one another.  I found myself staring and finally had to satisfy my curiosity.  ‘What kind of pancakes are those’?  They answered simply, ‘mmmm…just pancakes’.  Of course they’re pancakes!  But they look different than the results of the Krusteaz mix my mom used when I was a kid and you’re piling them a foot high!  So, I continued pestering this nice couple as they tried to go about making their dinner in peace.  ‘So, they’re just pancakes?  What do you put on them?’  They finally realized that the simple fried goodness they were making was a novelty to me and answered, ‘cheese – I guess…they’re cheesy pancakes’.  Aha!  Dutch cheesy pancakes!  It all makes so much sense now!

I have been fascinated by these savory pancakes ever since and was so excited to try the real thing now that we’re in the Netherlands.  Lucky for us, the town we’re living in is conveniently located a mere 14-mile round-trip run away from the Shang-ri-la of Dutch Pancakes: Lage Vuursche.  Evan nicknamed this place Pancake Land upon his first visit here before Christmas. People kept telling him about this little village in the forest where all the restaurants served pancakes.  He attempted a bike ride out there one afternoon, but turned back due to the fading daylight.
This past weekend, he got the chance to return.  We decided we were going to run to Pancake Land!  We suited up in our warmest running gear, as the weather has been frigid and forecasters were calling for what we learned in Syracuse was called a “wintry mix”.

We set off through Hilversum, through the deserted main shopping streets, past the Hilversum Sport Park and onto a straight, flat road with wide bike lanes on either side.  We saw not one, but two runners on our path there – an exciting sight for us!  We waved our runner hello’s and continued on into a path through the forest.  Evan had been here before on his bike and we found the little Thee Huis (Tea House) that caters to outdoors folks looking for a place to warm up inside post-adventure.  We sped past it after a quick glance through the windows. We followed the conveniently-posted signs for Lage Vuursche through the birch forests with wide bike paths until finally our path dumped us off on the one road leading into this little dorp (village).  The first thing I saw was the cutest Dutch farm house imaginable, complete with red-and-white painted shutters, a thatched roof, smoking chimney, sheep in the front yard grazing, and a horse-drawn carriage painstakingly painted in all shades of blue just hanging out under the cover of a hay barn.  Unbelievable.  The cars in this town were nice – the nicest we’ve seen so far in the Netherlands.  It was clear that we had entered a different world over here in little Lage Vuursche.

The second thing I saw, across the street from the picturesque farm house and sheep, was the most heinous thing I’ve seen since our arrival here: a completely fenced-in, barbed-wire protected, security-camera laden fortress.  This poor Dutch farmer has to look at that awful thing?  I couldn’t believe this overzealous protection and isolation – and from what?  The sheep across the road?  Since Hilversum is known as the home of the Dutch stars, we figured that some overly-paranoid star lived there.  How obnoxious.  Evan came to find out later that the Dutch Royal family actually owns the literal compound behind all the fencing.  Oh.  Well, I guess maybe they need the security.  But come on – it’s freaking Lage Vuursche and there’s only sheep and pancakes against which to protect oneself!

My protection against the famed Lage Vuursche pancakes was a lack of funds.  We purposely left our money at home knowing that if we sat down at one of the SEVEN pancake restaurants that line the main street, there would be no way we’d be able to run the 7 miles back to Hilversum!  Instead, we peered in all the windows, looked at all the menus, and even found multiple stores selling AUTHENTIC GARDEN GNOMES!  Like, antique ones.  Original garden gnomes.  Is the Netherlands the home of the gnome?  I have no idea, but it sure seems like it.  And they all live in Lage Vuursche.

At 11-15 Euros a pancake, I was kind of glad we didn’t bring our funds with us.  Seems a little steep to me for pancakes, but I guess they are serving the Dutch Royal Family so maybe they can afford to jack up the prices.  And anyway, none of the pancake places were open for breakfast, another thing I found strange.  We verified upon our return to Hilversum that pancakes are more a lunch or dinner item, which also explains the seemingly high price for these delicacies.

Once we were home, Evan and I made our own Dutch pancakes with a Pannenkoeken mix we bought at the grocery store.  We followed the example of our fellow Mt. Cook Hostel guests and piled them one on top of the other, and enjoyed them with a sampling of Dutch goat’s cheese and fresh Gouda from the market.  Delicious and well-deserved after our 14 mile run!


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