Waffeling on

I enjoyed parading around the delightfulness of Schiphol Airport, passing myself off as Dutch (people often think I look Dutch or Australian). The anonymity of it was how I have felt wandering London, Buenos Aires, Paris, Stoke-on-Trent and other alpha world cities. Maybe I like the feeling because I spend lots of time being stared at in other places.

I got nostalgic for a 2011 cycling trip to the Netherlands, memorably done with Elizabeth and Amy. Not a town could be pedalled through without loading up on stroopwaffels and their lesser-known cousins, stroopkoeken (a caramel and biscuit sandwich). Albert Heijn was usually a reliable pitstop so I was ecstatic to locate the Schiphol Airport one, complete with novelty clog, to load up on breakfast goodies. It's funny what arrests the senses: the squeezable honey bottle next to the hot drinks stand to add to tea. In most other places it'd be nicked.

I particularly remember the distress at the Hoek van Holland Albert Heijn next to the ferry port to Harwich, with the realisation that it could be several years before entering another. Thank you 2018 transit to Monrovia.

KLM is an excellent airline and there is a modicum more space between seats that permits reasonably comfortable use of a laptop without contorting yourself like a troll. The journey was productive so I must use them more often.

Unfortunately a very old man in the seat behind me had some terrible hygiene. I felt bad for him. After several hours the ammonia stench blurred my vision and brought on a headache. At least this served to slow down the demolition of my bag of stroopkoeken.