I start off and go through some of the small towns between Cologne and Aachen that grandfather was in during the war. Yesterday, going through the vineyards of the Rhineland, I saw in my mind soldiers sitting along an old brick wall eating grapes from the vineyard. Of course, it was winter when all that happened, but the image still came to my mind.

All of the towns I went through today were almost like new. In fact, I think it is because they are. I don't know how much is due to war, and how much is just new in a growing world.

In the afternoon I drive to S'Hertogenbosch in the Netherlands. I have a dinner date with Ingrid, whom I met on the last trip, and her friend Emma who wants (for some crazy reason I can't seem to figure out) to move to Minnesota. We are to meet in front of the train station at 5:00 pm, and I am actually on time when I get there at ten to the hour. Emma told me to wait in one place so she could find me. The minutes started to add up and I wondered if they were late because of work, or if today was REALLY Thursday. So, as one should always do when things start looking bad, I sat down at a cafe and had a beer.

Of course, this is my luck with bad situations and beer, three sips into the beer this wonderful person walks up with a smile on her face and says "I guess you are Ben?" Somehow in this small plaza Emma and I had managed to evade each other for almost an hour.

So I finish off the beer and we head off to the cafe where we are meeting Ingrid. We get there and she was starting to get anxious, not only because of the time but also because of the large group of high school boys at the cafe trying to get her phone number! We have a light dinner there (a really good satay, quite an interesting little place. It's called Mazzel/Toff and is behind the train station across from the Palace of Justice). Then we move on to a quick walk around the old part of town, a lecture on Boscheballs and that I should try them, and another bar and then another bar. We are all a little tired, from work and from the road, and call it an early evening.

Emma had booked me a room at Hotel Terminus, a block away from the train station. I thought it would be a small, private business type hotel. Well, it was what I have learned is called a pension. Now, keep in mind that the flophouse I had such a bad experience with on the last trip was a pension of sorts. But this place was much better. You checked in and out at the bar, where there was always somebody around (the rooms are above an Irish pub). Breakfast is included, and the rooms are small but very clean. I actually had a view from my room, and the price was right as well. I'm starting to think these pension places are a pretty good deal for the lonely traveler. And not a long walk to the bar, either!