Belgium to the Netherlands

Well it's been a little time since last I posted, so a quick update for you all. I'm currently sitting in a campsite just South of Amsterdam, and have been here for a few days now. It's nice and close to the city itself, about half an hour by Tram, but it's far enough away from the city to avoid any of the problems associated with it, with shops and a decent bar close-by it's proving to be a good base to foray into the city from. Amsterdam itself is a beautiful old city, and great for just getting utterly lost in. There are a myriad of street entertainers, bars, coffee-shops, museums, galleries, shops, restaurants and anything else that you could want. But first, let's track back a bit. I left off my last piece in just outside Gent after a ride through Kortrecht, in one of my favourite campsites to date - it was clean, spacious, had a good selection of beers and afforded me a spot well away from the sights and sounds of any of those pesky camper-vans! My next ride was to be aimed up towards Antwerp, so I picked out a decent looking campsite from Google's suggestions, whacked the address into my GPS and headed up. After a solid 70k which included a nerve-wracking stint straight through the streets of Antwerp I turned up at the campsite, which unfortunately didn't exist. It also didn't look like it had ever existed. Thank you for that one Google. A quick check with the aforementioned GPS showed that the nearest campsite was in Holland, so without a second thought I acceded to the demands of my GPS and struck off North. I think I should pay a bit more attention to my Garmin (GPS/Cycle Computer) as I still don't think that it likes me very much - this time it decided to send me on a route consisting mostly of sand. At least it likes variety... After a good half a mile of alternating between trying not to fall off whilst riding and pushing after having fallen off due to the soft sand I crossed the border (apparently - the only way I knew I was in Holland was by the masses of Orange decorating every house in the vicinity) into country three - the Netherlands. My first experience of a Dutch campsite wasn't too great - the name should have given it away ("Super Fun Time Family Happy Camp" or some similar drivel). It appears that the Dutch version of camping is quite dissimilar to our own - they prefer the permanent non-mobile mobile-home, with attendant awnings, tents &c. to ensure that they have all home-comforts to hand. They also have more of a core-season than the French, meaning that they routinely have reduced facilities (WiFi, restaurant, shop etc.) when it's not July/August. At least I managed to get into the campsite in time for the football, watching the Dutch play in Holland was something that I had been looking forward to for a while. What I hadn't quite envisaged was that the Dutch would be so staggeringly bad during the tournament, meaning that every time that I've watched Dutch matches has been a little disappointing, the first of their matches agains the Danish was no exception. After getting out of that campsite as soon as was humanly possible, I headed off again towards Dordrecht to find a pitch for the night. This was not to prove my most illustrious day's ride. After reaching the first campsite after about 80k I found that, as with the last campsite in Belgium, it didn't quite exist. Instead it appeared to have been replaced by another Nuclear Power Station. Bummer. After heading back the way I cam for about another 20k I reached another campsite - this time it existed, but it wasn't much of a bonus - kids running round screaming ignored by parents, row upon row of holiday home and dozens of empty beer cans littered the area near the reception, so I hightailed it out of there and found a new place to stay. Another 20k later, and it wasn't much of an improvement - €17 a night to stay in what was the European equivalent of Butlins. I was advised that there was a slightly more basic campsite a couple of km down the road, so rather than risking the evening singing a Dutch version of "It's a long way to Tipperary" I heeded said advice and headed to the FOURTH campsite of the day, which turned out to be a farmer's field. Facilities were again somewhat lacking. Another day's ride (only two campsites this time - equally bad though) brought me up to a site called Het Lingebos. A couple of days here (including a mad 20k hunt to try and find a bar with the football on only to have to ask someone to open theirs a couple of hours early) recharged my batteries enough to head up to Amsterdam. Arriving at the campsite after a five hour ride I pitched the tent and immediately set out to the city - Holland were on again. The city was heaving, and very VERY orange. After a quick wander around I found a good bar to settle into, and watch the Dutch throw away their best chance of getting somewhere in the tournament. The city kind of turned off quickly thereafter - that feeling of National disappointment, albeit much more natural when supporting the Three Lions rather than the Orange Army, permeated the quickly emptying city. The next day was the boring basics, washing, cleaning, drying clothes, shopping etc., before another day in the city, employed mainly in eating, drinking, watching street entertainers, a touch of shopping (including the ridiculously expensive American Book Store - yes, my Kindle has gone again), before managing to find probably the only bar in Amsterdam that retained the services of a Swedish barmaid to watch the game in. At least the banter was good!! Yesterday I headed back into the city to catch some of the culture - to whit the Van Gogh Museum. Featuring many of his most famous works as well as pieces by Toulouse-Latrec, Gaugain amongst many others, it was something else. I checked my watch after having thought I'd spent about half an hour there only to find that I'd been there for more than three hours! Nipping into a cafe on the way back home I spent a great hour sipping tea (the Earl Grey ranks pretty high on the list of friends that I'm missing!) whilst watching three guys play round after round of speed chess at a very high level at the table next to me. The final Holland match pitted them against Portugal - after heading back to the campsite by the early evening I nipped into a local bar to catch the game. The feast of Orange that greeted me really said something about the Dutch support - even though their team, rated as potential tournament winners at the outset, were now unlikely to even qualify they still turned out in numbers to support them. Albeit not a great result, it was a great atmosphere nonetheless. So that just about brings me up-to-date. I've got one more night in this campsite, then I'm heading back down towards Belgium, possibly slipping into Germany on the way down. As it is, I'm about to have my lunch and am debating whether to head back into the city for one last look, or to get the rest of my washing done! Due to the fact that I'm nursing a considerably large blister on my big toe, it might well be the latter...