On Sunday, we took a train to Amsterdam Centraal (our 3rd Pierre Cuypers masterpiece in as many days) and then had a little trouble finding the right bus. We're just not good at buses. Of course, my mom, who spent her time looking at postcards instead of trying to figure out where we were supposed to go, was the one who ended up seeing Bus 91 and saving the day.
We took 91 to the complete opposite end of the line to a little village called Zaanse Schans where tourists' wildest dreams come true.
At the klompenmakerij. If anyone wants some wooden shoes (and wants to pay for the weight they'll add to my suitcase), I know where to get them now. Or I could make you some since I now know the secrets of the trade.
At the kaas farm. We got to try lots of different cheeses, cut by girls in funny lace hats. I tried to find a picture of the hat on the Internet, but to no avail. Next time I go, I'll just have to buy my own cheese-cutting hat. (Edit: A lovely friend found some photos and posted them in the comments)
And then the windmills.
We went in one that still works called De Kat where dye is made.
This was one of those "at your own risk" kind of places, so we were free to stick our hands in any gears that we wanted.
We also got to go out on the little deck by the blades.
And climbed around on a bunch of ladders.
Except for my mom. She only went on a couple because she's afraid of heights and fun.
I hope you enjoyed these pictures because you can expect to see basically the same ones in a few weeks when I drag Will there. Don't forget to put in your wooden shoe order before then.