Groningen was a hell of a change after Harlingen: a hustling, prosperous modern city, the biggest in the eastern Netherlands, with a couple of universities to make things even livelier. It put me off a bit at first; the view upon leaving the train station was not promising. I loathe modern architecture and there was entirely too damn much of it around, though nothing quite as hideous as the example above. And the route we took into the center of town led past blocks of big modern buildings with slick stores and in fact just about everything I dislike; it was like being back on King's Road in London, though without the traffic and the unbreathable air.

Still, here we were, might as well make the best of it. Things looked a little better when we reached the Grotemarkt - the central square - where they were setting up a kind of carnival, with rides and shooting galleries and all that.

We found a really excellent hotel, the De Doelen, right on the Grotemarkt. The only room they had left was a fancy one with all sorts of luxury items, far more expensive - 150 euros a night - than we'd normally look at; but for various reasons we were unusually flush so what the hell. We even had our own sauna, though we never did figure out how to operate it.

And once we got away from the shopping area and wandered around a bit, Groningen looked a lot better. Especially down along the main canal, where the buildings were older and smaller and everything had more of a human look.

It was still cold, but not so bad now we were farther from the sea, and the buildings broke the wind off us. We found a laundromat to do our accumulation of grubby clothing; and later, in the evening, discovered a fantastic cafe next to the hotel. All in all things were looking up.

Friday the clouds began to break up and let the sun warm things up a little. We cruised around at random, checking out the old buildings, of which there were plenty; we'd just happened to come in by an unfortunate route. (Later we learned that the center of town had been bombed, pretty unevenly, during the war, and the postwar reconstruction rush was responsible for some of the butt-ugly modern buildings in among the old.)

The above is part of a complex of old state government buildings. I don't know who the statuary bloke is; I just thought he looked cool.

There was quite a large and beautiful Catholic church, surprising here in Dutch Reformed Church country. The tower bore the usual clock - you could get the impression these people worshiped a time god; every church in the country seemed to have a clock on its bell tower - but this one was unusual in its layout: no matter where you stand, you can see two clock faces. A lady told us that it was known locally as the Drunken Clock, from the double-vision effect.

By this time we were starting to form some opinions about this country and its people, mostly favorable. I'd always heard that the Dutch were rude, but you couldn't prove it by me; everywhere we went people were pleasant and courteous. (There was one guy in Harlingen, the operator of a laundry, who was something of a smartass, but nothing worse.) Damn hard working people, too, you could tell that just walking around and watching.

And my, my, but they produce some scenic wonders...how in the hell do Dutch women keep those fantastic shapes while eating that megacalorie food? (You order ice cream, they bring it with whipped cream on top. I swear. And THE greatest apple pie in the Universe.) No doubt those bicycles they ride everywhere have something to do with it - my God, I've never seen so many bicycles at a time in my life and I used to work in a bicycle factory....

We were definitely going to miss the Netherlands.

Just in case anybody's wondering, no, we didn't go to any of the famous "coffee shops" where you can semi-legally smoke happy stuff. We considered it, but somehow the idea just didn't have much appeal. Neither of us had smoked any kind of shit for years; low tolerances combined with unfamiliar local stuff, certain potential for excessive weirdness there. And anyway, as Phyllis observed, this would be a very dangerous country in which to get the munchies. My heart was already telling me severely that it wouldn't be responsible if I kept this up.

Saturday was bright and sunny, which was nice since it was market day. All along the main street off the Grotemarkt people were selling all sorts of foodstuffs: vegetables, fruits, fresh fish, sausages, cheese, pastries, as well as flowers and various merchandise. Even away from the market area, everybody seemed to be out enjoying themselves.

And even up in the modern shopping zone, you could hear some of the old sounds.

In the evening we went out to have our last dinner before leaving. Phyllis wanted something with asparagus; we'd seen some great-looking asparagus at the market that afternoon. There was a nice-looking restaurant not too far from the hotel which advertised baked salmon with asparagus, which sounded good. The price was a little steep - all right, more than a little - but we could afford it. We went in.

And walked into the one and only bad dining experience we ever had in the Netherlands, or for that matter anywhere in northwest Europe. Not that the food was bad in itself; the salmon was OK, if rather mediocre, and we weren't expecting it to be up to Scottish standards anyway.

But the "met asperges" part turned out to consist of exactly three, count 'em, little bitty spears of asparagus - approximately the size of a Q-tip - laid neatly across the salmon. That was it. A garnish, in other words; too tiny even to really taste.

We ate in grim silence, paid the excessive tab, and went back outside, where a large family group was standing studying the sign. We paused to warn them about the ripoff. They looked at each other, shook their heads, and thanked us; we had the mean satisfaction of seeing them move on down the street without going in.

Well, every country has its clippers and rippers; it was just our bad luck to hit this one on our last night in the Netherlands. We walked around a little more, cursing and then laughing; remembering an old Benny Hill routine, I said, "Good thing we didn't order the three bean salad."

Finally we went back to the hotel and packed.