Looking Through The Fingers!

ALMERE.

We need to stock up today. The internet points us toward Lidl about 2 miles away. Aldi is next door so Rosie is doing cartwheels in the car park. We buy wine for home and food for tonight. Our campsite is on the outskirts of the city. Unfortunately, it is closed for the weekend. There is a music festival on and it will be too noisy for campers. The owner directs us to a site in a harbour several miles away.

It is a site in a new development. The amenities are as good but the environment is far better.

The station is a mile away. We think that buying tickets is easy until the guard checks them. Somehow, I've booked tickets in the opposite direction. No wonder it was cheap. She is very pleasant and tells that that the Dutch phrase is to look through the fingers. Our equivalent is to turn a blind eye. We go to the ticket office in Amsterdam and find that a single ticket back is the cheaper option. It adds up to 25 euro return for the two of us.

We both need to use the toilet. The nearest one is at the Tourist Information Office. However, it costs 1 euro each. The attendant is outside having a crafty smoke. So, we both sneak through the turnstile at the same time for 1 euro. Is that something related to age or Yorkshire? We could have titled this blog "bogof at the bog" but that would have uncouth.

We walk around the city taking in a shopping street and mall before discovering Anne Frank's Museum. An amazing transformation from hiding from the Nazis to people queuing for hours 75 years' later.

Next, on to the red light district. A strange contrast to the Hamburg equivalent at the weekend. So much more transparent and apparently natural. Families were pushing prams alongside the punters.

We sat in a bar next to a young couple from Inverness. We are both shocked by the beer at 6.50 euro a pint. Enjoy talking to Daniel and Megan for an hour. A boat passes us, it is called the Smoke Boat, you can smell the pot across the water. It is three quarters full. The next boat along only offers cans of beer on ice. There are only two women aboard. Know your market, eh?

We walk back towards the station ready for the journey back to Almere on the train to to Zwolle. On the way, we buy chips with a mayonnaise sauce. When in Rome!

We are sat opposite a man who wants to talk. He comes from the north of Holland. He tells us that he will not be home until 10:30 but we cannot work it out, the train takes an hour thr a bus. However, he explains that the north of Holland shares a similar language to the English.

We enjoy a beer or two in the bar in the harbour after we walk back from the station. The swarming flies of earlier in the day have abated much to Rosie's delight.