Three days of travel through six countries, and we were there!
But what happened before? And what happened next? And what became of our blog?
As to the blog -- we’ve had an unbelievably marvellous time of enjoying ourselves here in “for’n parts”, and got back to our hotels at the end of each day quite worn out. We also had some problems with WiFi availability, but it was mostly end-of-day exhaustion, which we’re going to try to make up for now our holiday’s more than half-way through (today being Sunday, June 8).
So come with us, back through the mists of time …
FRIDAY, MAY 30: LEAVING HOME
We started, not in Venice (as in the old song), but in Acton (west London) -- almost an hour later
than we'd anticipated because Don's train from Manchester had been cancelled, and he'd had to get a later one. But we completed our packing, loaded it all into the car, and set off for our first night's stopover, in Dover.
Of course, it still wasn’t quite as easy as that. The warning signs came (literally) as we drove round the M25. They were large, hanging over the motorway, and illuminated, and read: “A20 closed after A260”. Of course, the M20 (next after the M25) turns into the A20 somewhere between Folkestone and Dover, and (it turned out) after the A260 joins it. As a result we and 2,781 BIG trucks (we may have miscounted …) were diverted round and through the back streets of Dover at a snail’s pace and nowhere near the route we’d plotted to the hotel, or that the hotel had also sent us. Thanks to our el-cheapo but effective SatNav system, though (Margaret with a road atlas), we arrived there near midnight, only a couple of hours later than we planned …
Over the next three days we would travel almost 1,000 miles through six countries. But first, to bed.
SATURDAY MAY 31: FRANCE, BELGIUM, LUXEMBOURG
We had no definite plans either of routes or stopping places, but had plotted out a route to Venice that required about 14 hours’ driving time over three days, if we didn’t deviate from it. Well, we did (as we’d expected), though not too much.
Our ferry was the Pride of Calais. We’d booked priority roll-off and use of the Club Lounge for a little extra, although we arrived too late for the roll-off (you have to be at the head of the queue for boarding, but nobody mentioned that to us when we booked -- by phone -- and we were still naïve 
travellers at that stage). But the opportunity to relax in the lounge over a “free” glass of bubbly was irresistible, and we enjoyed it immensely.
Even without the priority booking, the roll-off was quite quick. Co-pilot Margaret seized the Google maps printout and, leaving Calais, we turned left (east, for those geographically challenged) and 30 minutes later crossed into Belgium, heading for Brugge (Bruges). The flat and fertile Flanders
fields (yes, there were poppies) were picturesque, and many familiar names flowed past, usually in slightly unfamiliar guise: Dunkerque, Oostende, Brugge, Gent, Brussel, Waterloo, Ramillies … But we had many miles to travel, and made only brief stops for petrol and refreshment, and two diversions to see what a Belgian village might look like. (At our second stop, near Wavre -- a little south of Brussels -- we watched two men building a miniature garden in a corner of the service station near where we sitting. 
Having built it and filmed it in close up, the picked it up in the piece of cloth they’d built it on and went away. We’ll probably never know what it was about, but they also filmed the poster for some sort of bikies’ pets’ day that they’d built it under.)
Travelling southward through Namur, a beautiful Walloon (French-speaking) southern province of Belgium, we turned onto a side road to investigate a tower we’d glimpsed from the motorway (and to get another break from motorway driving). We went up through a pretty little village
called Lavaux Ste Anne and found its Chateau, a 15th-century castle which “is made up of three corner towers and a cavernous keep; it represents the only example of an Ardenne Castle in an open countryside. It hosts today an amazing hunting museum,” which we didn’t know about until we looked it up on the Interweb Thingy and, sadly, wouldn’t have had time for anyway. But we took our own photos, and see also here.
Back on the motorway, we encountered a fierce and prolonged storm. For about half an hour we drove at reduced speed with torrential rain doing a good job of mimicking fog. But we emerged from that into sunlight and, after about five hours on and off the road, drove into Luxembourg and, not much later, out of it once more, to re-enter France.
We’d earmarked Metz as a likely stopping point, and, since it was 17:00-ish, we drove into the town, and circled around a bit looking for a hotel that (a) had parking and (b) didn’t look fabulously expensive. We found the Hotel Cecil in the rue Pasteur, allegedly two-star but (in our opinion) very much better than the four-star hotel we stayed in the next night. It was nice to be back in France, where we had some command of the language (not that you’d need it much because many people, especially anyone who’s likely to sell you something, speaks good English).
Having settled into our room, we went for a stroll around central Metz. Despite a hotel brochure claim that it was “steps away”, the Cathedral was too far to walk comfortably, but we had a pleasant evening stroll before we returned to the rue Pasteur and had dinner at Le Bistrot des Sommeliers, a “bar a
vins” right next to the hotel. The waiter introduced Don to a very good white to drink while eating cheese (“Cotes de Jura”), and Margaret to a fabulous sweet red (she not being a red drinker) to go with a chocolate dessert (“Maury”).
We got to bed about 22:00, tired but ecstatically happy that our first week away (which is what it felt like after only one day) had been so fantastic.
But it's now 12:45, and (being in central Italy) we're off to do some more exploring. Catch you all later with the next episode!
-- D & M
But what happened before? And what happened next? And what became of our blog?
As to the blog -- we’ve had an unbelievably marvellous time of enjoying ourselves here in “for’n parts”, and got back to our hotels at the end of each day quite worn out. We also had some problems with WiFi availability, but it was mostly end-of-day exhaustion, which we’re going to try to make up for now our holiday’s more than half-way through (today being Sunday, June 8).
So come with us, back through the mists of time …
FRIDAY, MAY 30: LEAVING HOME
We started, not in Venice (as in the old song), but in Acton (west London) -- almost an hour later
than we'd anticipated because Don's train from Manchester had been cancelled, and he'd had to get a later one. But we completed our packing, loaded it all into the car, and set off for our first night's stopover, in Dover.Of course, it still wasn’t quite as easy as that. The warning signs came (literally) as we drove round the M25. They were large, hanging over the motorway, and illuminated, and read: “A20 closed after A260”. Of course, the M20 (next after the M25) turns into the A20 somewhere between Folkestone and Dover, and (it turned out) after the A260 joins it. As a result we and 2,781 BIG trucks (we may have miscounted …) were diverted round and through the back streets of Dover at a snail’s pace and nowhere near the route we’d plotted to the hotel, or that the hotel had also sent us. Thanks to our el-cheapo but effective SatNav system, though (Margaret with a road atlas), we arrived there near midnight, only a couple of hours later than we planned …
Over the next three days we would travel almost 1,000 miles through six countries. But first, to bed.
SATURDAY MAY 31: FRANCE, BELGIUM, LUXEMBOURG
We had no definite plans either of routes or stopping places, but had plotted out a route to Venice that required about 14 hours’ driving time over three days, if we didn’t deviate from it. Well, we did (as we’d expected), though not too much.
Our ferry was the Pride of Calais. We’d booked priority roll-off and use of the Club Lounge for a little extra, although we arrived too late for the roll-off (you have to be at the head of the queue for boarding, but nobody mentioned that to us when we booked -- by phone -- and we were still naïve 
travellers at that stage). But the opportunity to relax in the lounge over a “free” glass of bubbly was irresistible, and we enjoyed it immensely.Even without the priority booking, the roll-off was quite quick. Co-pilot Margaret seized the Google maps printout and, leaving Calais, we turned left (east, for those geographically challenged) and 30 minutes later crossed into Belgium, heading for Brugge (Bruges). The flat and fertile Flanders
fields (yes, there were poppies) were picturesque, and many familiar names flowed past, usually in slightly unfamiliar guise: Dunkerque, Oostende, Brugge, Gent, Brussel, Waterloo, Ramillies … But we had many miles to travel, and made only brief stops for petrol and refreshment, and two diversions to see what a Belgian village might look like. (At our second stop, near Wavre -- a little south of Brussels -- we watched two men building a miniature garden in a corner of the service station near where we sitting. 
Having built it and filmed it in close up, the picked it up in the piece of cloth they’d built it on and went away. We’ll probably never know what it was about, but they also filmed the poster for some sort of bikies’ pets’ day that they’d built it under.)Travelling southward through Namur, a beautiful Walloon (French-speaking) southern province of Belgium, we turned onto a side road to investigate a tower we’d glimpsed from the motorway (and to get another break from motorway driving). We went up through a pretty little village
called Lavaux Ste Anne and found its Chateau, a 15th-century castle which “is made up of three corner towers and a cavernous keep; it represents the only example of an Ardenne Castle in an open countryside. It hosts today an amazing hunting museum,” which we didn’t know about until we looked it up on the Interweb Thingy and, sadly, wouldn’t have had time for anyway. But we took our own photos, and see also here.Back on the motorway, we encountered a fierce and prolonged storm. For about half an hour we drove at reduced speed with torrential rain doing a good job of mimicking fog. But we emerged from that into sunlight and, after about five hours on and off the road, drove into Luxembourg and, not much later, out of it once more, to re-enter France.
We’d earmarked Metz as a likely stopping point, and, since it was 17:00-ish, we drove into the town, and circled around a bit looking for a hotel that (a) had parking and (b) didn’t look fabulously expensive. We found the Hotel Cecil in the rue Pasteur, allegedly two-star but (in our opinion) very much better than the four-star hotel we stayed in the next night. It was nice to be back in France, where we had some command of the language (not that you’d need it much because many people, especially anyone who’s likely to sell you something, speaks good English).
Having settled into our room, we went for a stroll around central Metz. Despite a hotel brochure claim that it was “steps away”, the Cathedral was too far to walk comfortably, but we had a pleasant evening stroll before we returned to the rue Pasteur and had dinner at Le Bistrot des Sommeliers, a “bar a
vins” right next to the hotel. The waiter introduced Don to a very good white to drink while eating cheese (“Cotes de Jura”), and Margaret to a fabulous sweet red (she not being a red drinker) to go with a chocolate dessert (“Maury”).We got to bed about 22:00, tired but ecstatically happy that our first week away (which is what it felt like after only one day) had been so fantastic.
But it's now 12:45, and (being in central Italy) we're off to do some more exploring. Catch you all later with the next episode!
-- D & M
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