With the new day, came a new month, and with that, the shocking realisation that we have exactly twenty-four days left in Europe this year, or twenty three if you don’t count the one we are going to use to make our escape.
Merelbeke, for those geographically challenged, is barely five kilometres as the canal meanders, from the spot we like to stay in Gent, so pretty much straight after breakfast, having delayed long enough to ensure that at least the early risers might have vacated a spot at the port, meander we did.
Perhaps as we slowly made our way through the inner city waterways, we should have been contemplating just how we might fill in those twenty-four days in some sort of constructive manner. Instead we spent the time contemplating just how much it felt as though we were returning home after a short absence, slowing our pace to less than our normal crawl, all the better to simply take-in both the familiar and the less so.
As it often does with so many places we visit regularly, with familiarity comes a sort of snug comfort.
This isn’t really travelling any more, it’s more like visiting a favourite Aunt.
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