On to Antwerpen

Riding Belgiun backroads

When I went to sleep after leaving Paris I saw lots and lots of red lights blinking about a kilometer or so away. Upon seeing the landscape in daylight, I realized they were all windmills. I was slightly disheartened realizing I was starting a ride across France's windy countryside, but it turned out much better than some of my previous windy touring days.
There were lots of small towns, and lots of war memorials, and lots of pedaling, but generally my second day was uneventful. My biggest surprise was finding I had crossed an international border into Belgium without so much as a street sign. All the license plates went from having an FR designation to a B, and that was it.
I rode a few more kilometers and then found a huge field to sleep in, right behind an American chain hotel. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling rain start, and quickly pulled my tarp over my gear and myself. The rain stayed light through the night but by morning it was raining steadily and socked in. While I generally try to eschew American institutions abroad, a rainy morning is no time to be proud. It's amazing what a little bit of bandwidth can accomplish, and after a few Google searches and VOIP phones calls I rode to the train station where I was wisked away to Antwerpen.
I was headed to Antwerpen to see my friend Jeff from Pennsylvania. We met 10 years ago when I shadowed one of his work days for a high school project and he hasn't been able to get rid of me ever since. On one was home when I arrived - apparently a highway bridge collapsed, there was a major gas leak, and a steel factory exploded spewing molten metal all while he was trying to take a friend to the airport. Some combination of this shut down the main highway in Belgium leaving them to drive around in circles for about four hours with two children in the car. Yikes!

Poured to the top, without spilling a drop!

This is a bar with character

I spent a few days hanging out with Jeff and his family. I crushed some cobbles, checked out a dirt jump park built through a WWII anti-tank fort, and sampled a restaurant style that is both awesome and troubling at the same time - the "frituur" where literally everything except your drink is deep fried. Mostly though I just enjoyed the Belgiun culture and tried to stay dry.

Dirt jumps in the shadow of a WWII anti-tank fort

I don't know how Belgiun people stay healthy with these restaurants around