An Idiot Broad Abroad

Day 46 had it all, folks. Suspense, intrigue, scandal, murder – need I go on?

Actually it had none of these things, but it may as well have. 

Before setting out I knew I had a long day ahead of me, but if I had known all the trouble that lay ahead I would have taken the train. Hindsight is 20/20, they say. 

The first 30 to 40 km were smooth sailing, relatively speaking. My first indication that the day would be a challenge was that I had a terrible sleep the night before. Not sure why, simply one of those ‘can’t turn off the brain’ situations. Could have been the caffeine I had at 5pm…

The sun was shining in the morning as I set off but steadily the clouds rolled in. I stopped for a coffee at a cute waterside cafe. Around this point I could feel in my bones that rain was impending. It was only a matter of time. Nothing to do but carry on. 

The rain hit shortly after I set off and it hit with fury. I stopped to hide under a tree and noticed an old man under the tree in front of me. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was likely less than ten minutes. Once it had subsided enough for the local to ride on, I followed his lead. 

The rain ebbed and flowed between light sprinkles to striking horizontal bullets. 

The worst event of the day was when I had quite a wipe out. I was riding along a narrow road through a town, Grömitz I think, and I felt I was holding back the cars behind me so I wanted to ride up onto the sidewalk. I was going at a pretty decent clip and took too shallow of an angle up onto the curb. My back tire caught and skidded along the curb, preventing my bike from continuing over the curb, but sending me flying onto the sidewalk and into the parking lot on the other side. 

Two cars stopped and people came over to see if I was ok. I was ok but, damn, it hurt. I stood up a bit too quickly and was dizzy. I assured them I was okay and I would take a break and such. After some convincing they bid me a nice trip and carried on. I sat on a bench near the scene and tried to deep breathe away the dizziness, windedness, and pain. I had some water and a sandwich and eventually felt better. 

I returned to my bike and checked everything. Some scratches on the handlebars. I checked myself. I didn’t want to take anything off because of the rain, but from what was visible I had a rip in the right arm of my Arcteryx jacket and a smaller on of the left arm. Rip jacket. But I think they have lifetime warranties?!

I felt the most pain in my right elbow and right hip/upper thigh. The hands were okay. Thank the sweet baby jeebus for cycling gloves. 

I carried on with extreme care and was pretty rattled after that. I went through a bit of a melt down if I am being honest, dear readers. 

The next little while consisted of me alternating between screaming, mumbling profanities, ugly crying, and then pep-talking myself out of crying and screaming. This was made worse by the fact that I still had so far to go in my journey to Maribo. I had over 40 km to get to the ferry. And then another 25 after the ferry. I was not in the best of spirits. And the icing on the cake was that it was still raining. Hard.

Finally the pep-talking beat out the screaming, profanity mumbling, ugly crying and I told myself to buck up and when I was one hour away from the ferry I could stop and have a rest / treat. Well, an hour from the ferry came and went and by that time I was feeling a lot better. 

During this time I had to traverse a big bridge. The little chain link gate to get from the exterior cycle path to the bridge cycle path was yet another serious obstacle of the day. Trying to hold my bike with one hand while maneuvering the gate with the other resulted in the bike flip-flopping all over (because of the weight of the panniers) and smashing into my recently injured hip. Ah, joy. 

Through the gate, finally, I was on the path over the bridge and couldn’t stop to take photos for fear of blowing off it was so windy. The sea was expansive and ominous and majestic as it reached into the distances of the horizon. 

Miraculously, once I had crossed to the other side of the bridge I felt exceptionally better. It was a symbolic achievement. Not far now until the ferry terminal in Puttgarden!

The ferry terminal there was very similar to a BC Ferry terminal. In this way it felt very familiar and also like somewhere I certainly did not want to be. But, I took it in stride and made it onto the ferry to Rødby, Denmark leaving within 15 minutes of my arrival! 

The sail took 45 minutes and was uneventful. I got some food and read my book. The ferry, too, was similar in many ways to a BC Ferry – i.e. filled to the brim with screaming children and other undesirables. 

After getting off the ferry in Denmark I was feeling, mentally and physically, a lot better. The rain had stopped and was replaced by late afternoon sun shining through the clouds. When finding my way to the bike route I nervously tried to avoid an area of white glass gleaming on the road. (I am mentioning this as it comes into the story only too soon). 

As I was about 6 km into my 22 km to arrive at my FINAL destination in Maribo, I felt the familiar swivel under foot and realized I had a flat. I instinctively checked the back tire, but seeing it was fine realized it was the front. 

Remarkably, I did not have another melt down. I think I was completely melt downed-out from earlier. I just pulled over on the little gravel bike path and calmly went about the tire change. I remembered the blunder of the last flat fix I attempted so I was nervous, and made sure to be careful and meticulous. Also, I used a hand pump rather than those bloody CO2 cartridges. 

The joy and happiness I felt when I had successfully changed my tire was probably a bit too much to be warranted for such a simple task, but I was pretty pleased with myself. 

I carried on, trying to “tread lightly,” as much as is possible on a bike, and took in the amazing surroundings. Birds were swooping and soaring around me, I was on a little path between apple and berry trees whose leaves arched over top the path, the fields on either side seemed to carry on endlessly. It really was magical. Maybe I was so elated because I was almost at the end of this godforsaken day. 

Finally, at about 7pm, I had arrived. The place seemed heavenly. There were goats in a pen next to the house, I peaked my head into a barn with lots of chickens and hens and one very fat pig (dinner?). The door was slightly ajar and this meant the hens could just loiter about the property at will. What a life!

I went inside the door that had a sign for “check in.” I rang the bell that had a sign to “ring bell.” I waited. And I waited. And I waited. 

What, I ask, could be the perfect end to the perfect day? Oh yeah, no one there to check you in and give you access to a space to remove your wet and soiled clothing and have a hot shower. 

Longer, still, I waited. I rang the bell. I phoned the number listed. I heard voices deep in the bowels of the house and could also hear footsteps intermittently upstairs. I figured they were other guests because clearly if the owner was here they would answer the door. I walked around the house a little bit and ended up in a kitchen where two shirtless, possibly Russian, men were eating. I apologized and explained the situation. They helped me look around and tried to problem solve. Finally one of them said they had seen the owner take his car out earlier and that he would be back soon. Really? Why wouldn’t you start with this statement?

I felt relieved that, at least, eventually I would get into my room. I sat outside, ate some crackers, and tried to have a conversation with a hen. 

Just as I had the brilliant realization that I could easily change my socks and shoes now to provide myself a more comfortable waiting situation, a car pulled up and it was my ticket to freedom, or rather to a shower. 

I was shown my apartment. It was lovely. It was huge. It had the cutest little writing desk and was well-appointed. I feel like this was the reward for passing the test of what was this day. 

I did nothing in the evening other than become one with the sofa and sit at the cute writing desk. It was heavenly. Unfortunately I was still too traumatized to blog about the day. Too soon, too soon. 

I snuggled into bed, whinging a bit when I rolled on my right side, ready to get some sleep before heading to Naevsted the next day.

DOTD

A nice ride today from Hamburg to Lübeck. I stopped in at a bike shop close to my hostel before heading off to check my tires. I asked if the person working there could help me check the tire pressure because I thought they were a bit low. He felt the front tire with his hand for approximately 1.3 seconds and said they felt fine to him…

I was not convinced and asked if I could use a hand pump. When I went to fill the back tire it was definitely low… very glad I was able to use the pump! Slightly concerned about that bike mechanic’s methods.

The clenching continued today during the first part of my ride as the streets of Hamburg were littered with broken bottles. For what felt like a very long portion out of the city I was riding along the separated bike path, which was on sidewalk. A lot of uneven and inconsistent pavement made for a bit of a bouncy ride. Even so, I have been very impressed with my panniers. They are staying on despite even the most massive of disturbances. An engineer’s best friend = heavy duty tape.

I stopped for a cappuccino somewhere and then for lunch somewhere else. A lot of the time I was riding on the bike / pedestrian path next to roads. Again, they were paved but had many bumps due to the underlying root growth.

Lübeck is beautiful. I had never heard of it before choosing it semi-randomly to fit in my route. It is a UNESCO heritage site and has more than your average German towns’ worth of tall, pointy buildings. It is distinguished by brick Gothic architecture, which dates to its time as the medieval capital of the Hanseatic League, a powerful trading confederation (thank you, internet search).

I walked around the city and took in all the sights. I stopped for a coffee at a café along the water. I went into not one but two marzipan shops that were less than a block away from one another and tried the same free samples at both. I think marzipan is a thing here? I resisted buying marzipan ice cream.

I bought a few groceries to eat dinner back at the hostel. When attempting to sit outside I was savagely accosted by mosquitos. I have thus moved inside.

There seems to be a large school group or scouts gathering staying at the hostel tonight. I will spend my evening trying to avoid their youthful exuberance.

Tomorrow I have a long ride, including a ferry, to get to Maribo, Denmark!

DOTD

Ahoy, pupper!

I woke up this morning feeling much better than I did the day before. My shell was once again replete with Suz. I was ready for a sub-par hostel breakfast and to hit the road to Hamburg.

My back tire has been feeling a little low since I had the tire changed a few days ago. I tried to find a place to use a pump with pressure gauge today, but as it is Sunday, nothing was open. Literally nothing in Germany is open on Sundays. Super convenient.

I rode on hoping that nothing would cause a flat, clenching my nether regions when I went over big bumps or spotted broken glass glistening in the sun.

Happy to report I made it the long distance from Bremen to Hamburg, totalling 113 km! Long, yes, but very enjoyable for the most part (save for the clenching). The sun was out and there was a wonderful breeze.

Mostly, I was riding through small German towns and next to farm land. As usual, I saw many a cow and horse.

Things got a bit hairy approaching Hamburg. I followed my directions bringing me to a body of water, the Elbe river, where I thought I would be taking a bridge. There was quite a crowd around the area and I couldn’t really figure out where to go.

I rode up to the edge of the water, sort of on a high seawall, where people were gathered. As far as I could see in either direction, no bridge.

I consulted the map and realized it was actually a tunnel I had to take. So, I back tracked a little way looking for the entry ramp into the tunnel. I figured this was the logical thing to do.

Again, I couldn’t find a ramp. But there was a building with what appeared to be boarded up entry ways to what could be the tunnel? There was also quite a bit of construction paraphernalia around, so it wasn’t looking promising.

I went around the corner to try to check things out, and when I came back I noticed a load of people cycling and walking out of the area that I thought was boarded up.

Turns out this is the, quite famous, Elbe Tunnel that has a large elevator system taking pedestrians down 24 m below the surface. It was opened in 1911, is 426 m long, and has been preserved to maintain it’s original condition.

I was excited and relieved that I could make use of this historical feat of engineering, while also getting to the correct side of the river.

Since it is Sunday, and everything is closed, and also because I am pretty wiped after 113 km, my sightseeing of Hamburg was rather minimal. I took the U-bahn two stops and walked out of the tube to a grand and imposing view of the Rathaus.

I took a little walk through the centre and then sat in a park for a while reading. Next, I found some dinner and then I walked home. Wild, I know!

Tomorrow will be a shorter ride to Lübeck, northern Germany. I need to get to Copenhagen by the 16th for an Iron Man*.

*Iron Man is hosting a multi-sport event and one of the options is a 4-18-4. This is a 400 m swim, 18 km cycle, and 4 km run. Similar to the triathlon I did in Belgium, but a bit shorter (yay!).

DOTD

I awoke to the sun piercing through my wispy curtains that appeared to be made of cheese cloth. Next, I felt the piercing pain in my head. Oh dear.

I will admit I indulged in a bit too much of the ol’ sacrament last evening and had a feeling of intense displeasure most of the day today.

I realized quite quickly that it may be too challenging to ride my bike for nearly 100 km to Bremen in the state I was in. Luckily, there was a direct train from Leer to Bremen. A pretty pathetic excuse for a rest day, I know, but I barely even made it the 3 km ride to the station.

The train was my saviour. But also my own personal hell. It was packed to the gills and I had a small seat in the stroller carriage. Stroller carriage meaning there were many children shrilly screaming and crying.

I was a shell of a man.

I made it to Bremen in about an hour and a half and found my hostel. It is a nice spot and I had a wee afternoon snooze. I am staying a short distance from the centre and this area is filled with graffiti and street art – some nice, some not so much.

I walked into town and watched the graffiti fade out and grand, beautiful old buildings take hold.

I also walked through the ‘Schnoor’ area – a neighbourhood in the medieval centre of the city, and the only part of it that has preserved a medieval character. Cute old buildings and many tourists. Wild!

I couldn’t believe it when I stumbled upon, yet another, food and drink festival this evening. It was the Ratskeller Festival – Ratskeller means town hall I believe.

I had a delicious meal of salmon, salad, and roast potatoes. It reminded me of home! Then I had an ice cream cone and took the tram back to the hostel.

The streets are packed with hooligans, young and old, roaming around, drinking beer, probably defiling private property, wearing Bremen’s football gear. There is a big match tonight which is part of a German Cup. I am going to put my earplugs in and try to block it all out.

Tomorrow I head off to Hamburg. Hopefully, in better condition than this morning.

DOTD

Poor quality photo but there was a cute lil’ guy at the food fest.

Also, this:

I have zero pictures of my ride from Leer to Groningen, so I apologize for the lack of visual stimulation in this post.

The reason for this was the rather constant stream of water dumping from the heavens during my ride.

I keep my phone is a very high tech waterproof contraption, known as a zip lock bag, and it is risky to remove it to take photos. I am also, for some reason, less inspired to stop and take pictures when I am soaked through with rain.

Anyway, the precipitation was somewhat unpleasant but wasn’t constant. This at least provided some variety.

The container ship hostel in Groningen only provided bread and spreads for breakfast, so I ended up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for most of my meals. Can’t complain! I stopped under a tree where there was a dry patch on the pavement and had a sandwich.

Once I arrived in Leer and washed everything and hung it out to dry, the weather cleared up a bit so I ventured into town. It was about a 15 minute bike ride to the centre from my hotel.

I was a bit disappointed with what I saw of Leer at first. It was rather bleak and, though people were out and about, there didn’t seem like much to do there.

Just as I was about to turn around and return to the hotel to just chill and have dinner there, I noticed some lights strung up and tables through a small alleyway. I walked in and found I had stumbled upon a wine festival. It was tonight only and started at 6 pm (it was 6 pm).

I took it as a sign from above and had a glass of wine. I also had a German pretzel (just a big pretzel).

Later I wandered, not far at all, and stumbled into exciting event no. 2, which appeared to be some sort of German folk music concert / sailor convention? I stayed and watched that for a bit too. Many people were dressed up in sea man garb.

I returned to the hotel and met some nice German people in the hotel bar. I may or may not have stayed up a bit too late. The next day may be a struggle getting to Bremen.

DOTD

Very handsome DOTD at the concert!

Every time I type the word ‘Groningen’ I have to google it to check I have spelt it correctly. Something about that second ‘n’ always makes me question myself.

Anyways, I am in Groningen.

I woke up with a mildly concerned email from my mother asking if I was planning to take the train part of the way from Amsterdam to Groningen, since it is nearly 200 km.

This was a bit of a surprise to me. I hadn’t looked at the route since I planned and booked it a week or so ago. I suppose I must have had another serious lapse in judgement or it was a result of me reverse engineering my route and then ending up with a bit too much left at the end. Either way, I took my mothers advice (Moms know best!) and I chopped a lot of the ride off with the train.

Somewhere between my hostel and Amsterdam Zuid train station my back tire went flat. I googled ‘bike store’ and made my way to the closest one, less than 2 km away. It wasn’t until I was back up and running and at the station that I realized they had also fixed my pannier rack screw.

Full disclosure: I never replaced the left side with a new screw because my water proof garden hose tape was holding so well.

I guess the bike mechanic was so dismayed by what he saw, he considered it his public duty to fix the situation. I get it. It was a pretty ridiculous set up. Now my bike is back in ship shape!

I took the train from Amsterdam Zuid to Assen. From Assen to Groningen it was only about 30 km, but it was already mid-afternoon when I arrived in Assen and I wanted to have some time to check out Groningen.

The short ride was enjoyable and I felt a difference, granted a small difference, from the south of the country. Of course it is still flat and largely rural, but it felt more ranch-rural than farm-rural – if that makes any sense. Rich, deep, rugged – as far as the Netherlands goes.

The hostel I booked in Groningen is a made up of old shipping containers that have been converted to dorms. They are arranged around a central courtyard. It is on a little deserted industrial island that is used for concerts and other such events now, I think.

From the small taste I got, I really like Groningen. It is a lively student city. And, even though university is not in session right now, I could sense that it would be a lively place when it is.

I will not pretend to know much about it’s history, but the architecture is really amazing. Everywhere I looked there were beautiful old buildings. The synagogue in the centre was spectacular.

I had a beer at Brouwerij Martinus, which was a neat local brewery with a cool space upstairs. There was a Dutch work party or something going on. The Dutch are loud.

I may attempt to check out the modern and contemporary art museum in the morning before setting off to Leer, Germany. I suspect a great deal of leering will take place.

DOTD

A double whammy DOTD today. Two golden retrievers one right after another.

Free day in Amsterdam today. Took it pretty easy as I have been here a few times before and wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere in particular.

My plans for a slight lie in were foiled when I was awoken by a piercing alarm. After attempting to sleep through it, then exchanging looks with my fellow hostel roommates, we realized it was the fire alarm. We tried to wait it out but the wailing persisted. We put on our shoes and went into the hall. By then, others were returning to their rooms.

Someone had burnt some toast. Ah, hostel living.

I crawled back into bed but at this point it was nearly 9 am and I wanted to get online to book a ticket for the Anne Frank House. I lay in bed and hit refresh on the ticket page for 45 minutes until I finally secured my spot.

Eventually, I cycled into the city and had breakfast at The Avocado Show – a popular place in the trendy De Pijp neighbourhood. I had avocado pancakes. They were delightful.

The day was spent cycling around the city, looking in some stores, reading my book, and checking out a Brewery in an old windmill. The weather was nice – actually quite warm. I was dabbing the sweat from my upper lip regularly throughout the day.

I almost got into several accidents while cycling. I am used to a slightly faster pace than city riding generally affords. Riding a bicycle through Amsterdam in rush hour is an experience.

I am glad I saw the Anne Frank House. As expected, it was sad but also inspiring.

In the evening I met a friend for drinks and dinner in Oost. She is also from Vancouver and we commiserated about various lost in translation moments with Dutch people.

A pretty laid back day in Amsterdam – certainly a lovely place for such a day.

Tomorrow will be a rather long trek up to the north of the country where I will stay in Groningen.

DOTD

I failed again to capture any dogs on film. Instead, myself and a bunch of dawgs the last time I was in Amsterdam:

Before setting off to the promised land of Amsterdam I took a detour to the Kröller-Müller Museum and Sculpture Garden near Otterlo. 

Utrecht to Otterlo (and back)

I left my bags at the hostel in Utrecht and took myself and my bike to the central train station. This was actually more of a challenge than one would envision because there was construction going on everywhere and even though Google Maps said I was inside the station, I was anything but that. Anyway, after a few flights of stairs and maybe dipping into a construction zone or two, I found myself in the station. 

It was very straightforward taking my bike on the train. I bought a ticket for myself and my bike and hopped on the train via the door marked with bike symbols.

Once I got off at Ede-Wageningen Station I had about a 16 km to ride to the museum (inside Nationale Park De Hoge Veluwe). It was very lush and green – part of riding through the forest reminded me of home.

The museum and sculpture garden are hidden gems inside the rich greenery of the national park. The museum has a sizeable Van Gogh collection. I couldn’t resist having a cappuccino and a slice of Dutch apple pie on the museum cafe terrace. 

Two separate Europeans mistook me for a German, must be the bangs…? Either way, I was feeling pretty damn Continental. Until, of course, I had to inform them I speak only English and I understood little to none of what they were saying.

Utrecht to Amsterdam

After returning to Utrecht via cycle and train, I grabbed my bags and hit the road to Amsterdam. The ride wasn’t very long. It was, of course, flat – but, the Dutch wind was relentless today. It was a hard slog despite the mild grade. 

Part of the ride was along a wide canal carrying long shipping boats. I had a race with one carrying what appeared to be scrap metal. I won!

My hostel is a bit out of the centre, located in south Amsterdam, but was recommended by a friend. After freshening up, I took the bus into the city and went for a stroll around Oosterpark. This is where Haley and I hung out upon our first European reunion over two years ago! 

Tomorrow will be a rest day in Amsterdam and I hope to get a ticket to the Anne frank house and check out the Rijkmuseum. Other than that, the day is open to explore. I’m meeting a friend who is from Vancouver and now lives here, too!

DOTD

I must apologize for the poor photo quality… I had to be pretty sly taking shots of this dainty angel on the bus.

I decided to take an indirect route to Utrecht via Leiden. It is wild to think that I lived in South Holland for almost seven months and never visited either of these places. 

The ride to Leiden was only about 20 km and was enjoyable enough. Leiden itself was a charming university town with canals, brightly coloured flowers adorning the bridges, and cafe tables spilling out onto the street (and onto boats). I rode around the area of Leiden University and had a relaxing coffee break on a terrace. 

Continuing on my way to Utrecht I was mainly riding next to the Oude Rijn. After some questioning and eventual Googling I confirmed that this translates to Old Rhine. It is part of the the Rhine Delta and during Roman times was a main branch of the Rhine serving as the northern border of the Roman Empire. 

Many people were out and about fishing, rowing, boating, conducting home maintenance, etc. I stopped for lunch outside an old windmill. I was waiting to find an old Dutchman in a wooden shoe but I figured a windmill would do. 

Utrecht is like a combination of The Hague and Rotterdam, as far as my experiences can inform me. There are tall, modern buildings interspersed with the cute old Dutch facades. There is a deep canal cutting through the city. You can descend stairs to dine next to the water. Overall I feel it has a grunge/punk vibe making it a vibrant place for young people. 

After having a beer in an old church converted to a Belgian beer house, I heard church bells ringing out in a sing song manner for longer than could reasonably be the telling of the time.

Soon enough I found myself inside a cloister of the church where people were gathered to listen to, and watch, a bell ringing concert (is that what one calls it?). There was a visual projection of the Bell Ringer (again, this surely can’t be correct terminology) on the wall of the cloister showing a live feed of the Bell Ringer, bell ringing. People watching were transfixed. 

One mystery that had been nagging me all evening was the purpose of the brightly coloured neck lanyards attached to badges that I had noticed people wearing all around the city. Finally, the curiosity became so great I had to ask one person when she noticed me staring intensely at her chest: Jehovah’s Witness conference. Outside I remained calm, inside I was ravaged with panic. She handed me a card and I said I was a lost cause and got out of there. I picked up my pace as I felt they were following me. I have been on red alert since then.

If I wake up in the morning without having been brainwashed to convert to the cult of Jehovah’s Witness, I will ride to Otterlo to see the Kröller-Müller Museum sculpture garden and then retrace my steps back to eventually reach Amsterdam, where I will stay for two nights!

DOTD

I’m back on my dog creepin’ game!

This ride was filled with several awesome highlights. 

Leaving Delft I noticed many people had set out chairs along the side of the canal, as though they were saving seats for something. Later I came upon a big group of people sitting by the canal and saw what was happening. A Dutch parade – aka a parade on water – was underway! It was pretty cool (and weird) so I sat and watched for a while. 

Next, I had an real engineering field day. I saw the Europoort Rotterdam, The Maeslantkering (Sea gates – storm surge protection), the Hook of Holland, and the Zand Motor (sand engine). The sea gates and the sand engine are innovative water management measures. 

I rode along the beach and to the pier in Scheveningen. As I was riding, I was attempting to pronounce Scheveningen properly. Don’t think I managed to do it.

Finally, I reached my hostel in The Hague after my circuitous route and quickly got ready to head out to the soccer game I had tickets for. 

The game was at a stadium about 9 km away and I was planning to take the train or tram, but in the end it was faster to cycle. When in Rome… 

I could hear the stadium before I could see it. Crowds of raucous Dutch football fans were piled outside the stadium chanting and waiting to be let in. Plastic cups and crumpled cans were littered about. This is going to be fun, I thought. 

I went to my gate – luckily, more tame than where the fans were all going crazy – and showed my ticket on my phone. I was then informed it needed to be printed to get inside. Great. It could be done at the registration I was told. 

After searching extensively for this elusive registration area, I came to the main entrance for fancy club ticket holders and someone was kind enough to print it for me there. I ran back to my gate, made it in, got a beer, and was in my seat just as the teams were shaking hands and getting into line up!

The game was really fun. The fans were more lively than I thought, as far as Dutch football goes. The visitors section was enclosed by two layers of glass. When Utrecht scored the visiting fans banged mercilessly on the glass toward The Hague fans in the next section. 

Utrecht beat den Haag 4 – 2, but it was a great game. After, I rode my bike to an Irish pub (my Irish friends would be mocking me), and had dinner. 

The next ride would take me from Den Haag to Utrecht!

GOTD