The last time we were in Namur we couldn’t understand what the fuss was about.
Everyone we knew who had been here, was quite complimentary about it, if not raving. As we recall, and we do, vividly, days of relentless forty degree temperatures had heated to wall we were moored against, just below the citadel, and our Joyeux was slowly being roasted along with all in her. The town was deserted, dusty, half built or half torn down, and generally in need of a clean.
It didn’t even have a tourist information office.
We walked and walked until the point of near dehydration, enjoyed a few hours in the citadel, but no matter where we looked we couldn’t find the slightest spark of magic referred to by others.
After that it doesn’t take much to imagine how enthused we were about getting out and about today, but the sun was shining so one of us managed a few loads of washing and a bit of a spruce up inside while cooking a batch of pikelets, and the other spent an equally industrious if not more trying morning attempting to unravel the many mysteries of the dashboard wiring.
By lunchtime the band had struck up across the river a the yacht club, the dancing had begun, the sun may have stopped shining but the world was still cheery enough for us to feel guilty about not getting out.
We never did find out what was going on in town, surely all of Belgium was there. The streets are closed to traffic on weekends, which is just as well as there wouldn’t be room for everyone on the footpaths.
It’s cleaner, brighter and no longer under construction.
Today at least it had a vibrance that seemed to lift the mood of everyone there. Possibly the French beer festival in the square assisted in that regard, but we’re glad to say that Namur is now on our “must stay longer next time” list.
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