Sleeping in a cell

I wonder how Dutch people choose whether their choice of transport is bike, car, bus or tram. Or even boat I suppose, but how could anyone be that ridiculous to only transport by boat.

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We’ve driven to France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and now The Netherlands. Netherlands – not so fun to drive. We were spoilt rotten with the roads in Luxembourg and parts of Germany, but here it’s known for how flat it is. The roads are flat and straight.

Also, haven’t seen any windmills yet.

What’s the point in stereotypes if we don’t see any windmills? This is day two here after all. I wrote in the beginning stereotypes are true, perhaps they’re not. Did see some clogs for sale though, and it seemed genuine and not a gimmick, and I so totally wanted some but they were 30 euros and all I would achieve from that would be the short lived thrill of buying them.

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Yesterday when we were searching for a place to stay (which consists of going on comparison sites, checking the map to see where to go and trying to spend as little money as possible) James impulsively booked a hostel in an closed prison, in Leeuwarden. My initial reaction wasn’t ‘oh, goodie!’ because it just sounds intimidating. James was so excited though.

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Oh me, oh my, it is cool. And! Bunk beds, baby. I’ve never had a bunk bed before. Looked up the history online and it said it was once a place of torture and public executions, which is nice staying in a room so unpleasant for others. I read that they think it’s haunted too. I didn’t feel horrible though, I felt very comfortable.

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For dinner we nipped to a supermarket and I had two sandwiches. Crazy. I’ve really missed a good sandwich and I haven’t been able to risk buying one yet, being a veggie and all. The toilets are far and few between on a road trip to risk it. They were superb I tell you. Ate them in my prison cell, gazing out from the bars at the channel and people strolling by. How free they all are, they don’t appreciate it.

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On the ground floor there were shops and even a tattoo parlour. James wanted to get a tattoo just to say he got it in prison. That’s a good enough reason for your first tattoo, right?

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Oh miserable looking Emily and James there. We were struggling with finding a place to stay in Amsterdam, within our budget, for the next night. It’s a Dutch holiday and English bank holiday so all I can conclude is that both countries have swarmed to Amsterdam for the weekend. On AirBnB there was a sofa to sleep on in someones apartment for 70 quid. In the end we booked somewhere an hour away which is fine for us. James has been twice or three times before and I’m not a massive city person.

We were going through the places we have stayed so far in the shared living room/bar. This is night 10. We have gotten to the point where we only remember the places that really stood out for us. We had to go through our emails to remind us where we have been. Maybe this isn’t a thing for everyone but we both have awful memories. The prison will obviously stand out. Along side Luxembourg, the B&B in Duppach and last night celebrating the Kings birthday. How very random.

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