After a few false alarms, I finally got up about 8, prepared and had breakfast. I was able to have Vegemite on toast, but the white bread here just does not taste the same as at home (and it doesn’t taste as good as white rolls here, and of course nowhere near the taste of baguettes). After that I sorted out a few things from the car and went to walk from here to the airport station and … guess what, you CAN’T walk! There is no pedestrian access into the airport.
I had a little look around the centre of the town of Roissy de France, which was a small sleepy town near Paris until the Charles de Gaulle Airport was built. Now it’s a large sleepy town, and that makes it far nicer than it would be if it all had moved with the times.
I went back to the hotel and caught the shuttle bus to the airport, then walked to the station. Standing in line to buy my ticket (as the ticket machines won’t take my credit card here and I still haven’t been able to reverse charges call to Australia for Westpac) I was able to help two American students from Missouri who are studying in Milan and taking weekends to explore Europe. They ended up getting the Paris Visité card, an all-day card which is for nearly all public transport in Paris. I got mine and then caught the electric subway train into Notre Dame. A quick look at the crowds lined up convinced me that firstly, I had been correct in planning my trip for early in the year and secondly, I was visiting Paris too late to miss the crowds.
After much and deep thought, I decided to take one of the hop-on, hop-off buses and chose one with what seemed like the best coverage, the Paris L’OpenTour. As it happens, one of their stops was right near where I was, so it was only a matter of minutes before I was on the green (Paris Grand Tour) route, which was quite comprehensive in what it covered. At home I will scan in the supplied map so you will be able to follow it as a picture in flickr.com, as an addendum to the photos.
I was off that and on the yellow (Monmartre – Grands Boulevards Tour) route, for a different look at the city. On this one, I was reminded of one reason not to travel on the upper deck on the pavement side – a tree branch got me on the forehead and knocked my cap off. I had to climb to the lower deck to retrieve it and when I went to put it back on, I found it had lacerated me just above the eyebrow (more scars!). The bleeding stopped after a few minutes (hey, I’m still healthy) and things went on.
I changed back to the green route to then catch the blue (Bastille – Bercy Tour) route which went around the St Martin’s Canal and the Bastille. Fortunately the French are not as crass as some others and have NOT put an amusement park on the site with fake beheadings and other forms of execution (and torture, that always sells), simply a monument and a traffic circle where current-day French can abuse each other with the same enthusiasm as in the old days, but less dire consequences.
I changed to the orange (Montpasse – Saint-Germain Tour) route for the last of the day (and of France) to have memories of Peter Sarstead sing “Where do you go to” in my ears (but not actually, as the iPod was back at the hotel) as I went along roads familiar in name but not in sight.
After that I got off and went to have my last real meal in France and went to a Quick restaurant, a copy of McDonald’s, and was horrified to hear the girl on the register ask if I wanted French Fries (I thought she would at least have called them Pomme Frites). I told her we called them chips in Australia. They weren’t ready and she had to bring them over later and said, “Here are your chips”, for which I presented her with a koala stickpin.
During the tours I met up with some fellow Australians and we chatted about touring, swapping notes on where to go and what to see, especially with limited time. One couple was ex-Melbourne, now in Brisbane, but with business links to Laverton.
After that it was onto the underground, locate the B line to Charles de Gaulle (B3) and as luck would have it, I got an express. Back at the airport I caught the shuttle back to the hotel (only had to wait five minutes), but then had to wait longer as the electronic key malfunctioned (too many magnetic strips in my pocket) and I had to get it replaced.
Then it was process the photos, upload yesterday’s blog and then yesterday’s photos, process today’s photos, upload them and then upload today’s blog.
Then to sleep, hoping that all my yesterday laundry will be dry enough to pack and that I can fit everything into my bags and keep within the weight limit.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
30 May
Today started with a leisurely breakfast, then a quick pack of my room and a thorough check. I left, saying goodbye to mine host and promising to keep in touch.
I drove back to Chipilly, now armed with the contour map, and found the high point of the ridge. I videoed the view, but from observation believe that the cemetery would have been the optimal location for the machine gun post my grandfather captured.
I then set course for the hotel I had booked. Along the way I realised that today was Friday and it was getting close to noon, so I had to post the parcels off very soon. I stopped by the side of the road and packed two parcels up, one to be posted to Kerry, at home, and one to Fran. Although equal size, they were not equal weight.
I chose the closest post office along the way to call into and arrived at 11:50. By the time they were weighed (one too heavy, so I moved a book into the other, but had to take the maps out) and then relabelled (according to the assistant there, the wrong labels were given to me – but they were the same as what got the last parcel to Australia), it was after noon and the post office was closed. At least they were now off and I had one less thing to worry about.
I arrived at the hotel at about 1:30 to find it was the wrong ne – they have THREE of the same name within a kilometre of each other. I found the correct one (it wasn’t in a flight path) and checked in, unloaded my stuff and decided to wash the small amount of dirty laundry and have a rest after. I did that, checked email and then went to sleep, waking up irregularly until it was the next morning.
I drove back to Chipilly, now armed with the contour map, and found the high point of the ridge. I videoed the view, but from observation believe that the cemetery would have been the optimal location for the machine gun post my grandfather captured.
I then set course for the hotel I had booked. Along the way I realised that today was Friday and it was getting close to noon, so I had to post the parcels off very soon. I stopped by the side of the road and packed two parcels up, one to be posted to Kerry, at home, and one to Fran. Although equal size, they were not equal weight.
I chose the closest post office along the way to call into and arrived at 11:50. By the time they were weighed (one too heavy, so I moved a book into the other, but had to take the maps out) and then relabelled (according to the assistant there, the wrong labels were given to me – but they were the same as what got the last parcel to Australia), it was after noon and the post office was closed. At least they were now off and I had one less thing to worry about.
I arrived at the hotel at about 1:30 to find it was the wrong ne – they have THREE of the same name within a kilometre of each other. I found the correct one (it wasn’t in a flight path) and checked in, unloaded my stuff and decided to wash the small amount of dirty laundry and have a rest after. I did that, checked email and then went to sleep, waking up irregularly until it was the next morning.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
29 May
Ah, the perils of travel.
I spent the night well and then didn’t want to get up in the morning, but decided I had better, as I was after some information and a visit for today. After a shower and dressing, I was down for breakfast just after 8. Breakfast was up to standard, but of course slightly different (as it is in each place). Today was rolls, orange juice, tea, egg and bacon and toast. I took so long to have it that the other couple from Australia, who were sleeping in until 9, had arrived before I had finished. We chatted about travel, comparisons of B&Bs and then the merits of campervans versus caravans and towing vehicles. Then I gathered my things up and left them together in the room, taking the laptop with me and heading off to fulfil various functions.
I went to Albert to find out more about the topography of Chipilly. Although I had been advised that the Tourist Bureau could help, they couldn’t, except to suggest I purchase an IGN map of the area. Even mentioning topography and contour lines made no difference. I headed over to the newsagency opposite and found … the IGN ALBERT Carte Topographique, which was exactly what I was after (at a scale of one centimetre to two hundred and fifty metres, it is quite detailed and shows the ridge area at Chipilly very clearly.
Alas, the second task was not so easy. I have to ring Westpac as they have put a stop on my credit card (apparently they are worried about a transaction, but of course they can’t email me with which one AND I can’t email them back, because of all the credit card email scams). The telephone booth I tried had no information on contacting an operator, and every other number I tried was of no help (“Sorry sir, I don’t have that information”). I asked at the Trench Museum, but even the resident Englishman at the other end could not help. He suggested the Post Office. My enquiry now degenerated into a farce. There, after four people had come from the back office to assist, all I got was a number to ring, which answered in French to say it was out of service.
I decided to cut my losses and visit the Victoria School to see if today was a school day. Of course, I arrived at lunchtime. Only one teacher was there, but around forty children were having a school lunch, which looked pretty good. The children were at school because their parents were working – no-one at home. I chatted to the teacher and found out there are about one hundred and thirty students at the school, they are aged about eight to eleven-twelve and come from the “petit enfant” école, then go on to the college (like our secondary school). As they finished lunch, a number volunteered to come out to be photographed under the “Do not forget Australia” and then returned to wait. The weather was wet, and it had been raining all morning. A few were speaking to me, and I didn’t know how to take it when a young girl told me she thought I was eighty (perhaps it is the continual travelling which has aged me prematurely). When all had finished, and they had put all the crockery and cutlery together, they were allowed to leave in order after sitting silently and putting their chairs under the tables properly. Then it was on with their wet-weather gear and into the yard, where the typical primary school noise betrayed the fact that it was a working school.
I went into a classroom with the teacher, who spoke better English than he thought, and I commented on the children’s work. Then I got the laptop and showed him the pictures of Australia which I had selected as typical. He then produced a memory stick of photos from the ceremony at the Memorial and at the school from ANZAC Day. He offered to let me copy them, which I did, and I copied the Australian pictures onto the memory stick. By then the other teachers had arrived, including the one I had spoken with in April. I spoke with her, and another, then one of the students who had been there came through and showed me his kangaroo pin on his pencil case.
I gave the teachers my email address and photo site, and promised to take photos of special things they would like from Australia and then to send it to them (most likely on a CD, as none of the school computers had DVD readers). I also got another number to try for ringing.
I left the school feeling I had achieved something (and may do more in the future) and immediately found a telephone booth on the main road. Inside was the number they had given me, saying it would get me assistance, but again all I got was a message that it was not in service.
By this stage I decided to cut my losses and catch up with other things, so I set course for Pozieres. I emptied the rubbish bag on the way (and got saturated with spray from a truck) and arrived back to find it still raining. I went in to find the lady of the house at home, so I sat down and had a cup of coffee with her, then did some research for accommodation for Friday and Saturday. My two options are a B&B at Parmain (about seventy kilometres from Paris, and about thirty-five kilometres from Charles De Gaulle Airport) or a hotel near the airport (Premiere Classe Roissy). The B&B will be quieter and more personal, include breakfast and provide for the car, while the hotel is closer and although the tariff is cheaper, by the time I park the car it will be more (but it does have WiFi free). I emailed the B&B, so I will ring tonight and if there is no room there, I will book the hotel over the Internet tonight. I also rang to return the car at about 1 on Sunday afternoon. My other tasks today include trying to pack the boxes to send to Fran and to me with everything I can’t carry in them (and they had better be less than seven kilogram each) and packing for travel by air.
I finished everything (except the packing) and found France Telecom’s page for accessing International Reverse Charges. I went into Albert to try and, guess what, I still couldn’t get through. I had some tea in Albert, then returned to Pozieres and went up to my room, finished everything off, found the B&B wasn’t available for the two nights so booked the hotel on the Internet. Then I got myself ready for bed, posted photos (only two – the schoolkids at Villers-Brettonneax) and then this blog, then went to sleep.
I spent the night well and then didn’t want to get up in the morning, but decided I had better, as I was after some information and a visit for today. After a shower and dressing, I was down for breakfast just after 8. Breakfast was up to standard, but of course slightly different (as it is in each place). Today was rolls, orange juice, tea, egg and bacon and toast. I took so long to have it that the other couple from Australia, who were sleeping in until 9, had arrived before I had finished. We chatted about travel, comparisons of B&Bs and then the merits of campervans versus caravans and towing vehicles. Then I gathered my things up and left them together in the room, taking the laptop with me and heading off to fulfil various functions.
I went to Albert to find out more about the topography of Chipilly. Although I had been advised that the Tourist Bureau could help, they couldn’t, except to suggest I purchase an IGN map of the area. Even mentioning topography and contour lines made no difference. I headed over to the newsagency opposite and found … the IGN ALBERT Carte Topographique, which was exactly what I was after (at a scale of one centimetre to two hundred and fifty metres, it is quite detailed and shows the ridge area at Chipilly very clearly.
Alas, the second task was not so easy. I have to ring Westpac as they have put a stop on my credit card (apparently they are worried about a transaction, but of course they can’t email me with which one AND I can’t email them back, because of all the credit card email scams). The telephone booth I tried had no information on contacting an operator, and every other number I tried was of no help (“Sorry sir, I don’t have that information”). I asked at the Trench Museum, but even the resident Englishman at the other end could not help. He suggested the Post Office. My enquiry now degenerated into a farce. There, after four people had come from the back office to assist, all I got was a number to ring, which answered in French to say it was out of service.
I decided to cut my losses and visit the Victoria School to see if today was a school day. Of course, I arrived at lunchtime. Only one teacher was there, but around forty children were having a school lunch, which looked pretty good. The children were at school because their parents were working – no-one at home. I chatted to the teacher and found out there are about one hundred and thirty students at the school, they are aged about eight to eleven-twelve and come from the “petit enfant” école, then go on to the college (like our secondary school). As they finished lunch, a number volunteered to come out to be photographed under the “Do not forget Australia” and then returned to wait. The weather was wet, and it had been raining all morning. A few were speaking to me, and I didn’t know how to take it when a young girl told me she thought I was eighty (perhaps it is the continual travelling which has aged me prematurely). When all had finished, and they had put all the crockery and cutlery together, they were allowed to leave in order after sitting silently and putting their chairs under the tables properly. Then it was on with their wet-weather gear and into the yard, where the typical primary school noise betrayed the fact that it was a working school.
I went into a classroom with the teacher, who spoke better English than he thought, and I commented on the children’s work. Then I got the laptop and showed him the pictures of Australia which I had selected as typical. He then produced a memory stick of photos from the ceremony at the Memorial and at the school from ANZAC Day. He offered to let me copy them, which I did, and I copied the Australian pictures onto the memory stick. By then the other teachers had arrived, including the one I had spoken with in April. I spoke with her, and another, then one of the students who had been there came through and showed me his kangaroo pin on his pencil case.
I gave the teachers my email address and photo site, and promised to take photos of special things they would like from Australia and then to send it to them (most likely on a CD, as none of the school computers had DVD readers). I also got another number to try for ringing.
I left the school feeling I had achieved something (and may do more in the future) and immediately found a telephone booth on the main road. Inside was the number they had given me, saying it would get me assistance, but again all I got was a message that it was not in service.
By this stage I decided to cut my losses and catch up with other things, so I set course for Pozieres. I emptied the rubbish bag on the way (and got saturated with spray from a truck) and arrived back to find it still raining. I went in to find the lady of the house at home, so I sat down and had a cup of coffee with her, then did some research for accommodation for Friday and Saturday. My two options are a B&B at Parmain (about seventy kilometres from Paris, and about thirty-five kilometres from Charles De Gaulle Airport) or a hotel near the airport (Premiere Classe Roissy). The B&B will be quieter and more personal, include breakfast and provide for the car, while the hotel is closer and although the tariff is cheaper, by the time I park the car it will be more (but it does have WiFi free). I emailed the B&B, so I will ring tonight and if there is no room there, I will book the hotel over the Internet tonight. I also rang to return the car at about 1 on Sunday afternoon. My other tasks today include trying to pack the boxes to send to Fran and to me with everything I can’t carry in them (and they had better be less than seven kilogram each) and packing for travel by air.
I finished everything (except the packing) and found France Telecom’s page for accessing International Reverse Charges. I went into Albert to try and, guess what, I still couldn’t get through. I had some tea in Albert, then returned to Pozieres and went up to my room, finished everything off, found the B&B wasn’t available for the two nights so booked the hotel on the Internet. Then I got myself ready for bed, posted photos (only two – the schoolkids at Villers-Brettonneax) and then this blog, then went to sleep.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
28 May
Another interesting day dawned.
After rising, preparing and facing a huge repast for breakfast and losing in eating it all, I gave mine hosts a DVD of some of my photos – even as small images, not all fit onto a DVD now. They got US, Australia and Europe (up to today) and started looking at them straight away (liked Uluru). Then my fellow residents came down for breakfast – they were four ladies from Ghent, here on a cycling tour. We talked about Europe and Australia, and touring by car and cycle, then they left to go out on a seventy kilometre ride today (they had done one hundred kilometres yesterday). I went up and packed, having already settled the account before finishing breakfast.
I left, having set course for Pozieres. Just as I left Belgium (which sounds great, but was just under an hour), the low fuel light went on. I waited until I was in France to fill up (for the last time) as all fuel, especially diesel, is far cheaper in France. The border crossing was another non-event, as while all the signage remains, you just drive straight through.
I filled up and have estimated, from all the fills so far, that the tank will take what the computer says, plus twenty percent, plus or minus twenty-five percent. It sounds complicated, but if the computer says I need fifty litres, then I really need between fifty-seven and a half and sixty-two and a half litres. On that I will estimate a final fill figure when I return the car (with a low tank, for transport, as it will go out on a car transport). So far, overall, it is returning just under sixty mpg (just over five litres per hundred kilometres).
After I filled up I went on, but reprogrammed to go the Victoria School in Villers-Brettoneaux. I arrived to find … no-one there! Have I chosen the wrong times to visit or what? I will try again tomorrow. I went up to the market square in the town to hear Australian accents – four, two couples, with one couple touring France for a month but the others returning home soon. They also have a leased car and apparently know the Hatchers (who run Eurolease in Australia) personally. I passed on a little about finding accommodation, then they left to find the Australian War Memorial, so I directed them to it (and followed them there, as it was on my way to Albert (“Bert”)). Then I left them and went to Albert, to get something to drink and check McDonald’s still had WiFi Gratitué and Illimité. They did, I got something to drink and then went to Thiepval. Although I had been there four times, I hadn’t seen the memorial. I read all the introductory material (again with school excursions rampant – had to loan a child a pen as he didn’t have one, but neither did his teacher). I walked to the memorial with some English people and chatted to them, and found you couldn’t actually get to the memorial as it was closed for cleaning and renovation before the summer crowds and memorial ceremonies.
I went back to Pozieres and found the owner of the B&B home, so dropped in, got a key and left some luggage. I am upstairs for tonight, then back where I was before tomorrow night. There is an Australian couple staying there, so I may meet them tomorrow morning (or tonight).
I went to the ppost office in Villers-Brettoneaux to get two mailing boxes for posting the last stuff home and got them, but struck the only post office in France which doesn’t take cards, so had to use cash.
Then I called in at Chipilliy. This is were my grandfather won his medal for storming a German machine gun post (even though the citation says elsewhere. I videoed the view from where I thought it took place and was just writing this up when a local gentleman spoke to me, realised the gist of what I was here for (to find the ridge and exact position of the machine gun post, if possible) and rushed off to get an English speaker. He couldn’t find one, but gave me a number to call, then spoke to each visitor to the cemetery to ask if they could help.
I wrote this all up, and am tossing up whether to return to Pozieres via Albert and post this (but not the photos, as I will do those later) or go straight back to Pozieres. I think the former will win as I’ll have tea on the way home, but most likely have to add to this tomorrow.
I called an and had some tea, then uploaded my blog there but no photos. I was able to check email, but left it at that.
I arrived in Pozieres and went to unpack the rest of my gear. I took some upstairs but stayed at the back to process the photos. I did that and then Christian, mine host here, came out. I showed him where I had been between staying here the first time and now, and he showed me where he had been on holiday in Italy. I showed him the Australian photos I had, while we had a drink together. Then he took his son out for something and I chatted to the Australian couple (from Sydney) about travelling, lease cars, places to stay, computer connections and cameras and photos. Apparently now there is WiFi here, and the breakfast room has been changed around quite a bit.
They retired for the evening and I went back, after mentioning to the son to help me get on the WiFi network, to my room, typed up the rest of my blog and got myself ready for the evening. I was logged on soon after, uploaded photos and full blog and then went to sleep.
After rising, preparing and facing a huge repast for breakfast and losing in eating it all, I gave mine hosts a DVD of some of my photos – even as small images, not all fit onto a DVD now. They got US, Australia and Europe (up to today) and started looking at them straight away (liked Uluru). Then my fellow residents came down for breakfast – they were four ladies from Ghent, here on a cycling tour. We talked about Europe and Australia, and touring by car and cycle, then they left to go out on a seventy kilometre ride today (they had done one hundred kilometres yesterday). I went up and packed, having already settled the account before finishing breakfast.
I left, having set course for Pozieres. Just as I left Belgium (which sounds great, but was just under an hour), the low fuel light went on. I waited until I was in France to fill up (for the last time) as all fuel, especially diesel, is far cheaper in France. The border crossing was another non-event, as while all the signage remains, you just drive straight through.
I filled up and have estimated, from all the fills so far, that the tank will take what the computer says, plus twenty percent, plus or minus twenty-five percent. It sounds complicated, but if the computer says I need fifty litres, then I really need between fifty-seven and a half and sixty-two and a half litres. On that I will estimate a final fill figure when I return the car (with a low tank, for transport, as it will go out on a car transport). So far, overall, it is returning just under sixty mpg (just over five litres per hundred kilometres).
After I filled up I went on, but reprogrammed to go the Victoria School in Villers-Brettoneaux. I arrived to find … no-one there! Have I chosen the wrong times to visit or what? I will try again tomorrow. I went up to the market square in the town to hear Australian accents – four, two couples, with one couple touring France for a month but the others returning home soon. They also have a leased car and apparently know the Hatchers (who run Eurolease in Australia) personally. I passed on a little about finding accommodation, then they left to find the Australian War Memorial, so I directed them to it (and followed them there, as it was on my way to Albert (“Bert”)). Then I left them and went to Albert, to get something to drink and check McDonald’s still had WiFi Gratitué and Illimité. They did, I got something to drink and then went to Thiepval. Although I had been there four times, I hadn’t seen the memorial. I read all the introductory material (again with school excursions rampant – had to loan a child a pen as he didn’t have one, but neither did his teacher). I walked to the memorial with some English people and chatted to them, and found you couldn’t actually get to the memorial as it was closed for cleaning and renovation before the summer crowds and memorial ceremonies.
I went back to Pozieres and found the owner of the B&B home, so dropped in, got a key and left some luggage. I am upstairs for tonight, then back where I was before tomorrow night. There is an Australian couple staying there, so I may meet them tomorrow morning (or tonight).
I went to the ppost office in Villers-Brettoneaux to get two mailing boxes for posting the last stuff home and got them, but struck the only post office in France which doesn’t take cards, so had to use cash.
Then I called in at Chipilliy. This is were my grandfather won his medal for storming a German machine gun post (even though the citation says elsewhere. I videoed the view from where I thought it took place and was just writing this up when a local gentleman spoke to me, realised the gist of what I was here for (to find the ridge and exact position of the machine gun post, if possible) and rushed off to get an English speaker. He couldn’t find one, but gave me a number to call, then spoke to each visitor to the cemetery to ask if they could help.
I wrote this all up, and am tossing up whether to return to Pozieres via Albert and post this (but not the photos, as I will do those later) or go straight back to Pozieres. I think the former will win as I’ll have tea on the way home, but most likely have to add to this tomorrow.
I called an and had some tea, then uploaded my blog there but no photos. I was able to check email, but left it at that.
I arrived in Pozieres and went to unpack the rest of my gear. I took some upstairs but stayed at the back to process the photos. I did that and then Christian, mine host here, came out. I showed him where I had been between staying here the first time and now, and he showed me where he had been on holiday in Italy. I showed him the Australian photos I had, while we had a drink together. Then he took his son out for something and I chatted to the Australian couple (from Sydney) about travelling, lease cars, places to stay, computer connections and cameras and photos. Apparently now there is WiFi here, and the breakfast room has been changed around quite a bit.
They retired for the evening and I went back, after mentioning to the son to help me get on the WiFi network, to my room, typed up the rest of my blog and got myself ready for the evening. I was logged on soon after, uploaded photos and full blog and then went to sleep.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
27 May
Well, today started out sort of as I expected.
When the computer was busily doing its processing and uploading last night, I heard a loud TV in French in the room next to mine. I was just about to sigh and think I would not be able to get a good night’s sleep when it went off just before I actually got to bed.
In the morning I went down for breakfast and found five places set – there are four ladies staying for a time, but then didn’t get down to breakfast before I left.
I prepared to go out, taking the laptop with me this time so I could write up my blog while out and perhaps add the photos in. I set out for Ostende, thinking it would take me some time and in less than half an hour I was in the middle of Ostende. I parked, had a look around the beachfront, then dove along the beachfront. First impressions are that there are huge numbers of people who come here (to the beach) for holidays. Everything was set up for many people, and it made me wonder whether people leave their crowded dwellings and move en masse to another crowded place for their holidays. The beach had different coloured sand, as if it had been shipped in for the summer. Within a few minutes, one ferry had left and another was coming in. There must be a huge traffic across the North Sea!
When I drove along the beach front, it went for what seemed like kilometre after kilometre, with a promenade, a dual tram track and the road. Then the land side became dunes and there must be a museum in there as there are gun emplacements from WWII still visible there – and some restored to beautiful condition. When I went for a walk out there along the promenade, the beach sand was grey and signs were prohibiting swimming (either that, or you’re not allowed to wave while standing in the ocean). The weather was bracing (read cool and moist), so I thought I would go to Ypres and look around there in more detail. I was there in less than an hour and parked, got some literature from the Tourist Bureau and then looked at the In Flanders Fields museum. Before going there I visited the gents’ – not unusual and hardly worthy of note except that I closed he door on the way in, but being of glass it didn’t make much difference. While using the facilities, I thought that at least the angle gave some privacy – until realised that the wall between the ladies and gents was also glass (clear glass, I might add). Ah well, the Belgians are out-Frenching the French.
The museum was crowded with – you guessed it – school excursions. Behaviours – the same as our kids (girls taking photos of girlfriends in front of displays and not reading anything or answering the material they had – boys trying to outdo each other at anything). The material was really interesting, so much so I didn’t take (m)any pictures. One aside was that the Australian troops had to be stationed outside the area because of their rowdiness and poor example to other troops. However, that didn’t stop them from being very successful in action.
I had an ice cream (memo to self: be neat and tidy in having chocolate ice cream while wearing white (now chocolate and white) shirt) and then set off on the “In Flanders Fields Route”. I stopped at a number of places, but only a few stand out especially. The first was the dugout in which the lines about the Flanders Fields poppies were penned. The second was a German War Cemetery – compared to the Commonwealth, a sad and understated place. The third was Tyne Cot Commonwealth Cemetery, with nearly 12 000 graves, a tribute to the futility of war.
Then I went to the Passendale Museum. It was very interesting and an experience which anyone visiting this area should not miss.
I returned to Ypres and had a pizza for tea.
I went to the car to write up today and found I was on a WiFI net, so checked my email. I shouldn’t have, as the reply from TomTom made my blood go superheated. “Service” is no help and even though they have been notified of the problem, if I’m back in Australia after the warranty time is up, I will most likely be on my own. I will be having a long discussion with the Trade Practices Commission when I am home!
I started writing, but stopped about 7:15 to go down to the Menin Gate and wait. I was standing with a woman from Australia and a family from Norfolk in England. We chatted and the ceremony started – a little different from yesterday as there were standard bearers as well as a few wreaths laid. I winced as flags hit and laid on the ground, but there were about five hundred people present, many schoolchildren and even soldiers for the German army.
I left not long after and saw a couple looking closely at my car and thought they were the ones from yesterday who were going to turn up today. It turned out they were a couple from Camberwell, but he had grown up in Western Australia.
After that I drove back to my lodgings, processed the photos (and had to do some backing up as my disk was full again), finished my blog and eventually uploaded everything before going to sleep.
When the computer was busily doing its processing and uploading last night, I heard a loud TV in French in the room next to mine. I was just about to sigh and think I would not be able to get a good night’s sleep when it went off just before I actually got to bed.
In the morning I went down for breakfast and found five places set – there are four ladies staying for a time, but then didn’t get down to breakfast before I left.
I prepared to go out, taking the laptop with me this time so I could write up my blog while out and perhaps add the photos in. I set out for Ostende, thinking it would take me some time and in less than half an hour I was in the middle of Ostende. I parked, had a look around the beachfront, then dove along the beachfront. First impressions are that there are huge numbers of people who come here (to the beach) for holidays. Everything was set up for many people, and it made me wonder whether people leave their crowded dwellings and move en masse to another crowded place for their holidays. The beach had different coloured sand, as if it had been shipped in for the summer. Within a few minutes, one ferry had left and another was coming in. There must be a huge traffic across the North Sea!
When I drove along the beach front, it went for what seemed like kilometre after kilometre, with a promenade, a dual tram track and the road. Then the land side became dunes and there must be a museum in there as there are gun emplacements from WWII still visible there – and some restored to beautiful condition. When I went for a walk out there along the promenade, the beach sand was grey and signs were prohibiting swimming (either that, or you’re not allowed to wave while standing in the ocean). The weather was bracing (read cool and moist), so I thought I would go to Ypres and look around there in more detail. I was there in less than an hour and parked, got some literature from the Tourist Bureau and then looked at the In Flanders Fields museum. Before going there I visited the gents’ – not unusual and hardly worthy of note except that I closed he door on the way in, but being of glass it didn’t make much difference. While using the facilities, I thought that at least the angle gave some privacy – until realised that the wall between the ladies and gents was also glass (clear glass, I might add). Ah well, the Belgians are out-Frenching the French.
The museum was crowded with – you guessed it – school excursions. Behaviours – the same as our kids (girls taking photos of girlfriends in front of displays and not reading anything or answering the material they had – boys trying to outdo each other at anything). The material was really interesting, so much so I didn’t take (m)any pictures. One aside was that the Australian troops had to be stationed outside the area because of their rowdiness and poor example to other troops. However, that didn’t stop them from being very successful in action.
I had an ice cream (memo to self: be neat and tidy in having chocolate ice cream while wearing white (now chocolate and white) shirt) and then set off on the “In Flanders Fields Route”. I stopped at a number of places, but only a few stand out especially. The first was the dugout in which the lines about the Flanders Fields poppies were penned. The second was a German War Cemetery – compared to the Commonwealth, a sad and understated place. The third was Tyne Cot Commonwealth Cemetery, with nearly 12 000 graves, a tribute to the futility of war.
Then I went to the Passendale Museum. It was very interesting and an experience which anyone visiting this area should not miss.
I returned to Ypres and had a pizza for tea.
I went to the car to write up today and found I was on a WiFI net, so checked my email. I shouldn’t have, as the reply from TomTom made my blood go superheated. “Service” is no help and even though they have been notified of the problem, if I’m back in Australia after the warranty time is up, I will most likely be on my own. I will be having a long discussion with the Trade Practices Commission when I am home!
I started writing, but stopped about 7:15 to go down to the Menin Gate and wait. I was standing with a woman from Australia and a family from Norfolk in England. We chatted and the ceremony started – a little different from yesterday as there were standard bearers as well as a few wreaths laid. I winced as flags hit and laid on the ground, but there were about five hundred people present, many schoolchildren and even soldiers for the German army.
I left not long after and saw a couple looking closely at my car and thought they were the ones from yesterday who were going to turn up today. It turned out they were a couple from Camberwell, but he had grown up in Western Australia.
After that I drove back to my lodgings, processed the photos (and had to do some backing up as my disk was full again), finished my blog and eventually uploaded everything before going to sleep.
Monday, May 26, 2008
26 May
Today started out too well, with another large breakfast – juice, tea, milk, bread, croissant, roll, ham and cheese (and too many spreads to poke a spoon at). After I worked my way through as much as I could, I set off to visit Gent (or Ghent, depending upon where the speller comes from). The weather had been raining in the morning but had cleared up by the time I arrived at Ghent. Although there were parking spots clear, I decided to play it safe and use a parking station, in case I stopped in an area of restricted parking which wasn’t posted. The parking station had levels with colours, numbers and symbols! -2 was a orange carrot, -3 was a red rabbit and -4, where I was, was a blue fish.
I walked into the centre of the city and had a look around at the buildings, some churches (more of that later) and finally thought I needed a thrill so a look over a castle followed. I found I qualified for a seniors’ discount, so took it and then found … school excursions all over the castle – English, French, Dutch, German – I can’t get away from kids! However the castle was a good experience.
I decided rather than jade myself by staying too long, I would have a look at Brussels in the afternoon. On the way back to the car park, I came across another articulate beggar (why do they pick me? why can’t I get one who only speaks their native language?) who told me his father was a master chef on the ocean liners years ago and his son was on the streets.
It didn’t take too long to get there (less than an hour) and the trick was getting into a parking station, as the entrances to most were at odd angles. I eventually made it and had a look around, although I think I shall see if I can become a consultant to some and suggest easier ways for tourists to make their way around – there were so many holding different maps up in many different ways but all of them looking confused.
I found the main square, looked around there, had some lunch, went to photograph a statue and had to wait – a group of schoolchildren climbing all over it to be photographed there. Squirming, making rabbit ears, making others laugh at the wrong time – kids are the same everywhere. I had a look over a church (there are photos of it) and have some definite thoughts on such things.
There are churches which are closed – no problem, that’s their choice. There are churches which are completely open and you can walk nearly anywhere and take nearly any photos you want. There are others which are partially open and you can walk in some places and not others, and photograph some areas and not others. But there are some churches which are open and you can’t do anything except walk around a restricted area UNLESS you join a guided tour (at considerable cost), whereupon you can walk anywhere and photograph everything. The cynic in me goes back about two thousand years to another person who got upset about trading in the church and created a scene (almost the last scene done by choice). I prefer ones where there is a discreet sign saying that materials are available (and the cost) with a coin slot and a mention that the church does require funds for its upkeep.
After, I walked down a few streets lined with cafés and saw so many touts I couldn’t believe it. They must have thought I wasn’t a likely bet, but for others it was, “children eat free” or “our menus in all languages” even though everyone else’s were too.
I saw a great sign “Quality Travel Agency” – would one really advertise if one’s travel agency was no good (unless your name was Basil Fawlty)? Also, there were some police cars on one road and I am now starting to worry – not only the policemen are looking younger, but the senior officers are looking no older than my ex-year twelves!
The afternoon had nearly gone but light was still good, so I decided, on a whim, to go home through Ypres (liper). I got there in time to have a little look around, but also to see the Last Post played at the Menin Gate (as some school students take and lay a wreath – which made me so glad and proud that our students wear uniforms and so can look good for ceremonies). Here I spoke to an Australian couple from Essendon and a Dutch couple from Utrech. The ceremony went well, except for a burglar alarm which was loudly operating during the greater part of the Last Post.
After that it was driving back to my (temporary) home in the rain. Two observations: European roads do not drain water well and so trucks throw up huge amounts of spray and light cars slide everywhere as they aquaplane; drivers change speed quickly and are not consistent with their driving patterns in the rain.
Once back, I checked my email and my blood boiled: I had got a reply from TomTom about not being able to do anything with my faulty unit. The reply said that I should have spoken to the Help Line (except that only the stores have the number, and the salesman had to wait half an hour to get through – the Help Line wouldn’t let the salesman explain what trouble shooting had been done – there was no suggestion to put me straight onto the line) and that units must be returned to the store of purchase for returns, otherwise nothing can be done. I suppose this means the warranty on the unit I purchased in Denmark is worthless. I will attempt to resolve the problem when I return to Australia – through Harvey Norman and the Trade Practices Commission, but I, at the moment at least, have to retract my good words about TomTom and say that it appears to be useless to expect service from them when their units play up or won’t operate. Certainly in the future, if I did this sort of trip again, I would have to compromise and find a unit which does have a useful warranty, worldwide in truth instead of just advertising.
Now that my mind has settled (I sent them a reply refuting each point in turn, so will see what happens), I will finish this, process the photos and then, after posting them all, go to sleep.
I walked into the centre of the city and had a look around at the buildings, some churches (more of that later) and finally thought I needed a thrill so a look over a castle followed. I found I qualified for a seniors’ discount, so took it and then found … school excursions all over the castle – English, French, Dutch, German – I can’t get away from kids! However the castle was a good experience.
I decided rather than jade myself by staying too long, I would have a look at Brussels in the afternoon. On the way back to the car park, I came across another articulate beggar (why do they pick me? why can’t I get one who only speaks their native language?) who told me his father was a master chef on the ocean liners years ago and his son was on the streets.
It didn’t take too long to get there (less than an hour) and the trick was getting into a parking station, as the entrances to most were at odd angles. I eventually made it and had a look around, although I think I shall see if I can become a consultant to some and suggest easier ways for tourists to make their way around – there were so many holding different maps up in many different ways but all of them looking confused.
I found the main square, looked around there, had some lunch, went to photograph a statue and had to wait – a group of schoolchildren climbing all over it to be photographed there. Squirming, making rabbit ears, making others laugh at the wrong time – kids are the same everywhere. I had a look over a church (there are photos of it) and have some definite thoughts on such things.
There are churches which are closed – no problem, that’s their choice. There are churches which are completely open and you can walk nearly anywhere and take nearly any photos you want. There are others which are partially open and you can walk in some places and not others, and photograph some areas and not others. But there are some churches which are open and you can’t do anything except walk around a restricted area UNLESS you join a guided tour (at considerable cost), whereupon you can walk anywhere and photograph everything. The cynic in me goes back about two thousand years to another person who got upset about trading in the church and created a scene (almost the last scene done by choice). I prefer ones where there is a discreet sign saying that materials are available (and the cost) with a coin slot and a mention that the church does require funds for its upkeep.
After, I walked down a few streets lined with cafés and saw so many touts I couldn’t believe it. They must have thought I wasn’t a likely bet, but for others it was, “children eat free” or “our menus in all languages” even though everyone else’s were too.
I saw a great sign “Quality Travel Agency” – would one really advertise if one’s travel agency was no good (unless your name was Basil Fawlty)? Also, there were some police cars on one road and I am now starting to worry – not only the policemen are looking younger, but the senior officers are looking no older than my ex-year twelves!
The afternoon had nearly gone but light was still good, so I decided, on a whim, to go home through Ypres (liper). I got there in time to have a little look around, but also to see the Last Post played at the Menin Gate (as some school students take and lay a wreath – which made me so glad and proud that our students wear uniforms and so can look good for ceremonies). Here I spoke to an Australian couple from Essendon and a Dutch couple from Utrech. The ceremony went well, except for a burglar alarm which was loudly operating during the greater part of the Last Post.
After that it was driving back to my (temporary) home in the rain. Two observations: European roads do not drain water well and so trucks throw up huge amounts of spray and light cars slide everywhere as they aquaplane; drivers change speed quickly and are not consistent with their driving patterns in the rain.
Once back, I checked my email and my blood boiled: I had got a reply from TomTom about not being able to do anything with my faulty unit. The reply said that I should have spoken to the Help Line (except that only the stores have the number, and the salesman had to wait half an hour to get through – the Help Line wouldn’t let the salesman explain what trouble shooting had been done – there was no suggestion to put me straight onto the line) and that units must be returned to the store of purchase for returns, otherwise nothing can be done. I suppose this means the warranty on the unit I purchased in Denmark is worthless. I will attempt to resolve the problem when I return to Australia – through Harvey Norman and the Trade Practices Commission, but I, at the moment at least, have to retract my good words about TomTom and say that it appears to be useless to expect service from them when their units play up or won’t operate. Certainly in the future, if I did this sort of trip again, I would have to compromise and find a unit which does have a useful warranty, worldwide in truth instead of just advertising.
Now that my mind has settled (I sent them a reply refuting each point in turn, so will see what happens), I will finish this, process the photos and then, after posting them all, go to sleep.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
25 May
Today started out differently, as there was no breakfast included in the €86 tariff for the night at Meerkerk. So it was prepare to leave, pack, make sure I had everything and then return the key and leave. In the car I got the apples and bananas out for breakfast to have along the way.
Memo to self: do not eat juicy apples while driving in the car.
I could have chosen the scenic route, which would have got me to my chosen accommodation by 4 in the afternoon – but as it was Sunday, I thought I would play on the safe side and arrive as early as possible – so I went the fast route. That was projected to get me there by about 12:30. After a few wrong turns (memo to self: look at programming SatNavs for dyslexics so I know which way to turn – I know the difference in French but not English) I arrived before 1 and found: yes, there was room in the inn; I could stay three nights; the cost was €40 including breakfast); there was Internet (WiFi) available.
Mine hostess was very affable and asked me what I was going to see and do. I had already seen a laundrette so was going to wash my laundry (and that will just last me), but she implored me to see Brugge this afternoon and do the washing tonight (the laundrette hours are 7-22) and gave me a brochure for it. I decided I would do that and headed off for the outskirts of Brugge, so I could park free but also not worry about time restrictions.
I quickly found a likely spot and parked, then walked a little way around the city, and then, after seeing two windmills, into the city. While I was walking, everything was quiet and there were few people (but interesting things – a mirror house and a sound display), but when I went to the centre, there where a huge number as well as interesting sights. Naturally a lot of the houses were old, some were small (and I mean small – one floor and only four to five metres wide), some were large and there were an amazing range of churches – though few were still being used as churches. There were so many tourists it made me glad I had arranged most of my visiting when there were not many around. Roughly half of them were English, and I think most were on bus trips as they all had to meet at the station (so there were groups huddled around each map).
Brugge is based on canals, but has a lot of streets. Most are one-way, but bicycles can travel both ways – horse carriages can only go with the traffic flow, and there were a lot of them.
After I had seen quite a bit, I was working my way back and was asked by two Dutch girls to take their photo (I got one too, which I will post for my students with the caption “I can still pull good-looking chicks, even in Belgium”). They were in Brugge for a “hens’ weekend”, just down a hundred or so kilometres from the Netherlands.
I got back to the car and returned to my lodgings, wanting to change into my tracksuit so I could launder all the clothes (including today and trousers). I did that and noticed that the room has a fridge – and saw the notice about Internet, but being in Dutch I couldn’t read it (further down in Belgium French is used and I could have understood that). The laundry was gathered and I went down to set it up (reasonable prices and six washers, four dryers). I wrote up my blog while waiting for the washing and had a cold drink while the clothes were drying.
I returned to my lodgings and set up for the next three nights, did the normal computer work, was able to check my email and post everything and went to bed.
Memo to self: do not eat juicy apples while driving in the car.
I could have chosen the scenic route, which would have got me to my chosen accommodation by 4 in the afternoon – but as it was Sunday, I thought I would play on the safe side and arrive as early as possible – so I went the fast route. That was projected to get me there by about 12:30. After a few wrong turns (memo to self: look at programming SatNavs for dyslexics so I know which way to turn – I know the difference in French but not English) I arrived before 1 and found: yes, there was room in the inn; I could stay three nights; the cost was €40 including breakfast); there was Internet (WiFi) available.
Mine hostess was very affable and asked me what I was going to see and do. I had already seen a laundrette so was going to wash my laundry (and that will just last me), but she implored me to see Brugge this afternoon and do the washing tonight (the laundrette hours are 7-22) and gave me a brochure for it. I decided I would do that and headed off for the outskirts of Brugge, so I could park free but also not worry about time restrictions.
I quickly found a likely spot and parked, then walked a little way around the city, and then, after seeing two windmills, into the city. While I was walking, everything was quiet and there were few people (but interesting things – a mirror house and a sound display), but when I went to the centre, there where a huge number as well as interesting sights. Naturally a lot of the houses were old, some were small (and I mean small – one floor and only four to five metres wide), some were large and there were an amazing range of churches – though few were still being used as churches. There were so many tourists it made me glad I had arranged most of my visiting when there were not many around. Roughly half of them were English, and I think most were on bus trips as they all had to meet at the station (so there were groups huddled around each map).
Brugge is based on canals, but has a lot of streets. Most are one-way, but bicycles can travel both ways – horse carriages can only go with the traffic flow, and there were a lot of them.
After I had seen quite a bit, I was working my way back and was asked by two Dutch girls to take their photo (I got one too, which I will post for my students with the caption “I can still pull good-looking chicks, even in Belgium”). They were in Brugge for a “hens’ weekend”, just down a hundred or so kilometres from the Netherlands.
I got back to the car and returned to my lodgings, wanting to change into my tracksuit so I could launder all the clothes (including today and trousers). I did that and noticed that the room has a fridge – and saw the notice about Internet, but being in Dutch I couldn’t read it (further down in Belgium French is used and I could have understood that). The laundry was gathered and I went down to set it up (reasonable prices and six washers, four dryers). I wrote up my blog while waiting for the washing and had a cold drink while the clothes were drying.
I returned to my lodgings and set up for the next three nights, did the normal computer work, was able to check my email and post everything and went to bed.
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