Travelling around has helped Woodsie and me define certain comforts we enjoy in a hotel. This afternoon we arrived in Amsterdam, and for starters, there is no free wi fi in the rooms. No problem. I am now in the foyer where a computer is available. Alas, it is not possible to plug in my cardreader, so no photographs will accompany this blog.
And I had a couple of real beauties, too.
Yesterday morning in Brugge, I spent part of the morning at a hairdressers, having a colour and cut. (Hello to Vanessa, my hairdresser at home, who kindly put instructions and the colour references on my phone for me!)
Rob and I took a two hour walking tour in the afternoon. I overheard one couple say they were from Malmesbury, which we will vist, to see a village/area our friends Sue and Andy Davison came from. We have been charged with the huge responsibility of finding a tiny nearby village, locating the village hall, and seating ourselves on the bench dedicated to Andy's late parents. Nothing less than photographic evidence will satisfy Sue. Might grab a signed Statutory Declaration from the local Squire, just to make sure.
Anyway, I didn't pounch on this Malmesbury couple immediately. I kind of stalked them for a while, then mentioned we would be staying a few days in their area. They gave us some top tourist hints!
When wandering out for dinner yesterday, we saw ahead of us at the intersection a few police vehicles, and heard loud chanting and hand clapping. I sped up the walking pace, to reach the intersection just as a crowd of fifty or more youths, mainly in white tee shirts, (they had other clothing on too!) walking as a tight group up the middle of the road. (It is in the old part of town, so is not a wide street, so the crowd were taking up the entire width.)
What amused me were some of the police following this group, apparently Danish football supporters here for the night's game with Belgium. The police were pedalling along on their bikes!! Sorry, but with a rowdy, unruly soccer crowd, the threat of a policeman on his treddlie is somewhat diminished!
The hooligans, followed by mounted (bike), foot and vehiclar police moved through the square to the left, so we walked straight across to a newer area of Brugge we had not seen. We came to a wide canal, with a bridge and old town gate. On either side of the bridge stood a further four police. Over the other side, tucked into a parking space in front of a building, were four large police vans. They soon moved off, no sirens but the lead van had the lights flashing.
Walking down along the canal, then cutting back towards the square, we saw in an open area two more police cars, and one gigantic police vehicle. It had four doors, with a ladder at each to climb up, plus a huge section behind that. The storage area at the rear reminded me of a fire engine, so we deduced this might be a mobile water cannon. I asked one of the police inside (they were sitting with doors open) if they were there for the possible football violence. He was most approachable and said yes. At first he claimed it only happens against the Danes, but admitted to teasing me. This was common place reaction to games when they suspected a high risk of trouble. (Given the crowd were already drinking (we heard smashing glass a bit) and the game was still 90 minutes away, it seemed likely they might be needed.
We sat at an outdoor table overlooking the square. As it was our last night in Belgium, I decided to try a local dish - mussels. They come out in an enormous black pot with handles, with a glass bowl beside in which to place the empty shells. Two dipping sauces were provided and I have to say, together with another variety of Belgian beer, it made a most delicious and memorable meal.
At our hotel, Rob went upstairs and I called into the small bar, for an aperitif, "for the digestion" as the man there told me last time. A couple were sitting out on the tiny balcony, overlooking the canal, and the woman said in English she was enjoying the same drink as me. Well, that is as good as an invitation to join them ...so I did.
That's when I realised their English was heavily accented. Ooops! Was I going to be stuck with Europeans and really struggle to understand them? No. They were Welsh. Gwen and Richard, from Nelson, and what a delightful pair they are. They could not understand why we were not including Wales in our tour. They are "valley people". Both are teachers (Richard has had several careers, at one time he was a policeman) and both have taught Welsh, but Richard is the more fluent. They are a down to earth couple who work hard, love their two daughters, don't mind a drink, loved the film "Kenny"and Paul Hogan's comedy, are proud of being Welsh ... and don't look too kindly on the English.
Our taxi driver this morning asked where we were from. I mentioned the football last night. Sadly, due to the referee calling an "öff side"which our driver clearly indicated was NO SUCH THING, Belgium did not win! He also told us that Australian Frank Farina had played for Team Brugge and tried to show us a YouTube clip on his iPhone of young Frank. (The download was too slow, so we didn't want to hold him up, plus we had a train to catch.)
On the train, the couple from Malmesbury climbed on for a day trip somewhere (no luggage with them) but were in second class so we couldn't sit together. He helped Woodsie get our suitcases up on the overhead rack though. Some time into the trip, he reappeared, with their names - Mike and Wendy Allison - and phone number written down for us.
In the words of one Sue Davison, "I was well and truly chuffed!"
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