After a four-hour train ride from Amsterdam, we pulled our suitcases off the platform in yet another new country, regretting our 6th hotel switch and 9th city of the trip. Into a taxi we went, and pulled onto a motorway as ordinary as peanut butter. In the words of Charlie Brown: good grief. But, we were wrong. We pulled into a city that I can’t wait to mosey around again here on the blog. For starters, we stayed in the historic house of a stained-glass artist. Around the corner, and just about…
