So gentle were they, that we floated, in a most peculiar way....
We played to the villagers of Aule, a place where no foreigner, no artist had ever set their foot before. We were surprised to find that here in Belgium people speak german - our show was in french! But luckily we're idiots and Don de Duende knew a little german.
Industrial heritage, somewhere along the way...
And the Vennbahn, another bit of industrial heritage. This is where the Germans invaded Belgium, or was it the Belgiums invading? It was once Belgium, then Germany and Belgium, Germany, Belgium again, and so on. The land and the people got very mixed up. Now it is Belgium.
At the end of the Vennbahn lies the german city of Aachen and to the east of Aachen lies Holland.
We got tangled up in the Dreilaenderpunkt and stupidly cycled up the hill. Belgium, Holland, Germany? We didn't know where we were, we were at the top and we needed to be at the bottom, the flat bit, Holland. Turns out we cycled up the only hill in Holland, the Vaalserberg. Doh!
A fork in the river, a fork in the cyclepath! What do we do?
The horrible, scary, naked giant doesn't know either. We climb the tower to consult the oracle.
We closed our eyes and went left and the road led us to a french pic-a-nic basket. Luckily it was outside a dutch shop de Houtduif.
We're definitelly in Holland. It's flat, there's canals, it's a bit like the Truman Show.
We kept going north to Groningen.
Groningen, city of O.R.K.Z. we stayed a couple of nights, it was raining, we saw a good bicycle ballet scene at a busy junction, we played in a proper theater and did the washing up.
And then, that was Holland.
We crossed the border into Ostfriesland, passed this rather delightful mosaic sofa...
... passed the derelict chinese restaurant...
...followed the signposts and found the mill in Jemgum.
There the sheep introduced us to the high art of drinking Tee mit Kluntje. It spun us out!
And we crashed into a giant bicycle in the sky....
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