AMSTERDAM-TEXEL-AMSTERDAM. 29th September-2nd October

Monday morning. I have been trying to extend my time in Europe by taking a later flight, but today found out that the only thing available is 26th October, which wouldn't leave me enough time for India, so now I am definately going on the 5th October. Did some shopping, and left Amsterdam at 5pm for Texel. Crowded commuter train to Den Helder, then a 45 minute wait for a bus to the ferry pier. Got talking to a young Iraqi guy, who was going to his uncle's place in Texel for Idul Fitri (end of Ramadan). He said he had worked for the Americans and Australians in Iraq, but one thing he'd never understood was why they didn't have their own language, why they all spoke English, and I did my best to explain. I suppose it seems a bit strange if you haven't been to school in an English-speaking country. The bus got us to the ferry right on time, then a 20 minute trip across the water, and another bus to near the hostel. Of course, it was full with about 200 schoolkids, but strangely enough everything went quiet about 9pm, and as I had a 4-bed dorm to myself, and a very comfy bed, I fell asleep soon after.

Tuesday morning, I took advantage of having a big room to myself, and spent a couple of hours going through all my gear, and having a tidy-up and a chuck-out. Then I attempted to hire a bike, a snip at 5 euros a day. They gave me the key for a numbered bike, all I had to do was search through a couple of hundred bikes outside until I found the right-number bike. Did that, and found out that the bike was probably built for Arnold Schwartznegger, so much so that as soon as I tried to mount, it, and I, fell in a heap. Went back and asked for another, which turned out to be just as big. Then I took the number of a fairly small-looking bike, and asked for the key of that - "sorry, don't have that key, but why don't you take a stack of keys, and see if you can find one to suit". Did this, and got one that looked as if it was made for a young teenager, but at least I wouldn't be on tippy-toes as I was riding along, and after pumping up the back tire, I took off.

Cycled from Den Burg (the main settlement, and where the hostel is), to the lee side of the island at Oudeschild, then about 10 kms along the polder (retaining embankment) to De Cocksdorp, where I had a long lunch in a very civilised little hostelry. Then to the lighthouse at the northern tip of the island (raining heavily now, and very gusty), and on along the seaward side of the island, where a track runs about 12 kms alongside De Sluifter, which is a reclaimed area that failed, and is now a famous sea-bird sanctuary. I pushed the bike as much as I rode it along this part, the wind was that strong. To my amazement there were a number of tents at a couple of spots, where people were camping. I came out near De Koog, and had intended to end the trip through a forest that the island is renowned for, but it was getting towards dark, so I headed for Den Burg. On its outskirts I had to ask for directions from a lady out walking a (non-savage) German Shepherd dog, and she ended up walking me about a km and a half back to the hostel, and we talked about India, as she had been there as an exchange student.

When I returned the bike, the lady at the desk suggested I might like to use their dryer, as by now I was looking like a drowned rat. And that's probably the downside of travelling light, because I only have one fleecy and one jumper with me, both of which were now soaked, despite my shower-jacket. I was sleeping alone again, and it was quiet early again, and once I was dried out, I slept like a baby.

Wednesday, I journeyed back to Amsterdam in the morning, which was uneventful except that there was a one-hour wait for the bus once the boat docked, and in attempting to walk it instead to the train I got off-course a couple of times. In the evening I surfed the web looking for accommodation in Delhi, all of which looks expensive. Then I sent e-mails to two cheap hotels listed in Lonely Planet, plus to the web-site of another hotel, which offers to send a taxi to the airport to pick me up (11.30pm arrival). I was beginning to think that I had the 4-bed dorm to myself, but a Canadian guy turned up about 11.30pm. He is going to stay at the hostel between flats, and had just finished work (as a programmer at a games company)

Thursday, I have to get myself into gear, as there are a couple of things to do before India.
I forgot to get anti-malaria tablets before leaving home, and last night the people at the hostel gave me the address of a clinic by one of the canals, (8.ooam to 10.00am only), where I front up about 8.30. You have three lots of waiting to do (for your number to flash up on the screen). Firstly to one counter to check that you've filled out your (exhaustive) application form properly. Then to actually see the doc, who was very informative on the subject of malaria in India, and gave me a map with the malarial area coloured in, so that you don't need to start taking the tablets until you arrive in that area. Then another wait to go up and pay (about $12 only, but the tablets at a pharmacy were nearer $50).

Also, I wanted to send a parcel home of things I'd bought, so I returned to the hostel and started sorting them out, and made a list. I was half way through when a young Scottish guy arrived. He was visiting Amsterdam to work out details with some other guys regarding a mountain-bike trip they are doing to raise money for charity. They're only planning to cycle the length of Africa, from Cairo to Cape Town (and you thought I was crazy). No sooner had he unpacked and left, than another guy arrived, Luiz from Brazil. Very hyper, very broke, and very cold. "Is this all they have on the beds?" as he realised there is just a doona ; and when he realised that the little light by his bunk wasn't working " I will go downstairs and see them, and demand they repair it!" This is the way he talks, all the time, and I can see that he's definately off the planet. By the time I got to a post office and bought a box etc, and had all the associated problems of sending a parcel from a country where they don't necessarily speak English, it was getting towards evening. It was wet and cold and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I made up my mind to visit an Indian restaurant I've passed several times, which is near the hostel. There I had the most scrumptious chicken curry and rice, washed down with a couple of mango lassi's, and I felt glad I hadn't gone there from the beginning of my stay, or I never would have tried any other cafe in Amsterdam. Even a party of hostile Russians, some of whom looked like mafia, and headed by the rudest customer that I think I've ever heard in a restaurant, did nothing to spoil my enjoyment of that curry.

Afterwards I checked my e-mail, which had a confirmation from India, which promised that a placard-holding taxi-driver would meet me at the airport. I also surf for a hotel near the airport in Paris, as the 'plane leaves at 0740 am, necessitating something like fronting up at 0540 am or thereabouts. And like all hotels near all international airports, they're expensive, as in like 99 euros ($175) is standard. I eventually find a 2-star hotel for 69 euros, which hurts - but it's too cold and wet to sleep rough.

Back at the ranch, Luiz is in his lower bunk, dozing with his (now fixed) light on. I get to bed, and am dozing when one of the others comes in, and after a while Luiz' light is switched off, and I hear him saying "I'm not asleep" and the light comes on again. Then Luiz goes to the toilet with as much noise as possible, but does put the light out, and then it sounds as if he is sitting up in bed eating a packet of biscuits, also with the maximum of noisy scrunching and munching. In the morning I can hear a lot of water running, and assume that one of the others has got an early start and is having a 7 am shower. When I get up to go to breakfast, Luiz is not around, but the Scottish guy is also getting up, and says to me "What do you reckon about that guy doing his washing at 4 o'clock this morning?"