Last Hurrah

Last weekend, we drove 3.5 hours to the Netherlands to see the windmills of Kinderdijk.

Kinderdijk sits in what's called a polder -- a low-lying tract of land enclosed by dikes. To drain the polder, a system of 19 windmills was built around 1740. This group of mills is the largest concentration of old windmills in the Netherlands. 

We bought tickets to tour two of the windmills and tickets for a boat tour of the mill network. The village had a path alongside a river with a lane for cycling and a lane for walking. Otto and Aksel loved to run from one windmill to the next, yelling and pointing at the windmills in operation, trying not to get hit by cyclists and trying on giant clogs.  

We were able to climb up and inside one windmill and see how a family would have lived and worked inside the windmill during the 1800s. 

Another windmill was turned on and working. Ben spent a few minutes taking a video and chatting it up with the man in charge. He was really kind. He helped Otto, Aksel, and Ingrid put on clogs and walk around. 

Ben and I both really enjoyed the boat tour. 

The kids were totally over windmills by this point and I'm really grateful we had the boat to ourselves because no one could sit still or keep their hands to themselves. We ended our tour with a few souvenirs from the gift shop, including a package of stroopwafels that I promptly opened and equally divided among the five of us. And then I immediately regretted not buying more. 

As we made the hour and a half drive to our next destination, I was telling Ben how much I love the Netherlands -- the cheese, the bikes, the flowers, the wafels, the people. Then I declared that the Netherlands feels like Norway's cousin. Ben paused for a minute and then agreed. That means he really, really likes the Netherlands, but it's still not as magnificent as Norway in his mind. 

We drove into downtown Brussels, checked into our hotel, fed the kids McDonalds and spent an hour swimming in the chilly hotel pool. Aksel sat on the side of the water, refusing to get in, and asking over and over to go home. Otto and Ingrid had the time of their life. 

After lots of jumping on beds and tears over Belgian television options, they finally passed out. Ben and I ordered room service and listened to LDS Conference. We really know how to party. 

The next morning we were downtown, parking our car and ready for the day by 9 am. European cities always feel quiet in the morning, but it was especially quiet this Sunday morning in Brussels. Other than a few UN Unimogs and soldiers, it felt like we had the city to ourselves. 

We lucked out by finding an open bakery -- Le Pain Quotidien -- and ordered five pain au chocolats and one dark hot chocolate (for Ben). Best pain au chocolat I've ever had. Ben agreed. We walked a few more blocks to the Grand Place, the central square of Brussels surrounded by opulent buildings, the town hall, and museums. It's incredible. It's awe-inspiriing. It's everything I'm going to miss about Europe. 

We continued on to Brussel's Park and spent two hours playing soccer and playing on the playground. When we felt hungry again, we walked back to the car, stopping for fries and a chocolate-covered waffle. 

We hooked Otto, Aksel, and Ingrid up with their iPads and headphones and Ben and I listened to more LDS Conference for the two-hour drive home. 

The next morning, I had pain au chocolat again for breakfast. I can't stop eating it. 

When Ben's uncle Larry came to visit, he ate a pain au chocolat every morning for breakfast and I thought, "Whoa! It's just bread and chocolate."

Now that I'm leaving in one wees, I'm eating it every day and I'm like, "It's bread AND chocolate!"

I love all the wonder and marvel I feel when I walk around Europe, Brussels, Kinderdijk, and home from my neighborhood bakery. I'm going to miss you, pain au chocolat, but I'll be back someday for more.