When weren’t enthralled when we found the stone wall with the mooring bollards separated from the Railway station by nothing more than a patterned concrete fence. There were no other boats there which is always an ominous sign, and we wondered if there’d been a mistake on the chart. We even checked the satellite view on our Maps to see if it was us who had it wrong.
The grass and trees were neatly trimmed it must be said, and after a bit of investigation on foot we did find a notice board with a welcoming message from the Tourist Office explaining how we could get a key to unlock the boxes which had water and power. With this knowledge one of our hearts began to flutter as she thought of the prospect of a day of washing, while the other, aware that we had not taken water since leaving Ghent breathed a little more easily so we popped into town in search of someone to pay.
We found an office at the address provided, and in the absence of any sign that we might be in the correct spot asked one of the two personable young folk behind the desk if indeed we were in the tourist office.
“No”, said the young man, “I am the Gallo Roman Museum”, then indicating towards his colleague he said “She...”(pausing for effect) “is the Tourist Office”. We had a lovely chat to both the Museum and the Tourist Office and a delightful walk home!
Meanwhile, today back at the station, with a boat load of fresh washing and ironing done, things are so tranquil that we’ve decided that another day to recover from the forty kilometres we’ve travelled this week might be a good thing. The trains are so super-silent it’s as though they tip-toe past each other with their fingers to their lips, giving each other a knowing glance and a nod in our direction which says “shh…they might be asleep over there”.
Just what exactly are the wheels of trains made from in Belgium? Memory foam?
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