Three countries in three days

France, Belgium, The Netherlands - three countries in three days of cycling. Yes, it sounds like a marathon torture test for some saddle-sore adventure cyclist. But, if the middle country is Belgium and it's only ninety kilometres from the one border to the next, it's not so hard. 

Beginning in the French town of Dunkirk, we cycled in the hazy early morning across the Belgie border and immediately noticed the difference, particularly in the houses - many more were built of an uninspiring brown brick. However, the cycle paths improved dramatically and suddenly there were route numbers every few hundred metres. All you had to do was the follow the chosen number and turn at the chosen spot. Except, we didn�t have the numbers for our planned (unplanned?) route. Should we take 54 or 11? 

Oh well, it�s a new country, which means lots of different cakes to eat while trying to decide which way to go.

Yes, we got lost. Usually there was someone to suggest the correct route. In fact, I�ve never seen so many cyclists - from colour co-ordinated pelotons on road bikes to old couples out for a Saturday morning wander, it was obvious we were in a flatland built for two-wheeled touring and everyone was doing it.

I�ve been to Belgium a few times before. How can I put this diplomatically? It�s a strange country, wedged between the elegant, well-mannered beautiful French and the effusive, urbane handsome Dutch, the Belgians are ... cold, rather unattractive, and well, suspicious. 

Everywhere we went, people would look at us as if we were about to do them harm. Even going into a shop where we would spend money rarely prompted the person behind the counter to greet us positively. 

After twenty-four hours in the country and two testy exchanges with the citizens, Cathie and I were both feeling rather glum. Was it us? Were we breaking some unknown cultural etiquette every time we opened our mouths? But then we remembered previous visits where we�d noticed that the people had seemed cold and aloof. 

The land is flat and featureless; the wind blows across the open expanses; the food is uninspiring; and the people themselves can�t seem to decide at elections in which direction they want to go. Like I said, it�s a strange country.

This morning we crossed the border into The Netherlands. Two attractive workers at a bakery in the first town greeted us with wide smiles and quickly changed to English when they saw we couldn�t speak Dutch. They laughed and shared a joke when I returned to order an extra cinnamon scroll because it was so delicious.

We joined the gathering throng on well signposted bike paths and revelled in all the vibrant happiness in which the population was going about their Sunday. Everyone seemed happy. And why not - it was a beautiful sunny early autumn weekend and there was cycling to be done.

Cathie and I smiled all the way to Middelburg, the beautiful old town capital in the province of Zeeland. We sat in the square at a cafe and drank inexpensive beer and smiled the afternoon away. We look forward to the next week cycling east through this welcoming country.

Yes, Belgium is famous for chocolate, waffles and beer - but who can live off that? They should try smiling - it's much tastier than chocolate, as warm as a perfect waffle and its effect lasts longer than any beer.