Yvonne (our host) treated us to another large breakfast this morning. Just as well we aren’t staying any longer, as each morning the breakfast has become larger. By the end of a weak I am sure it would have become a veritable feast. This morning we had a bonus bacon and eggs (on top of the standard breakfast) and a kiwi fruit each to “make you feel at home”. The standard of the breakfasts in the B&B varies widely, with some providing little more than a Twinky bar and coffee, to places where they smother us with kindness, to the point where we wonder if we will make it through the door. Yvonne is a kindly old soul, who definitely fits into the later.
We finally managed to stagger our way to the train station, unsure whether the staggering was due to the breakfast, or the weight of our packs. Today we were bound for Brussels. As soon as we boarded the train, we were greeted and surrounded by the grim countenance of the Brusselians. We haven’t met such a serious looking lot since we left Zurich. Maybe it’s the weather. The grey sky, and the fact that if it isn’t raining, its about to.
The only exception was our new host (Adi) who greeted us with a chirpy “Hi!” and an enthusiastic tour of the premises and summary of the cities sights that “you simply must see.” Not sure yet if he is gay or a dance instructor. The four cats certainly weren’t letting the extra cat out of the bag.
After settling in we went for a stroll into the city, and after walking a few streets discovered that we seem to be staying in the Middle Eastern quarter. As we meandered into town, a couple of fresh waffles under our belts (Mmmmmm!), and a couple of grand old churches, we arrived at the Central Square, with it’s surrounding magnificent old buildings. The Hotel de Ville is worthy of note, being the only building to escape the French bombardment in 1695. Ironic considering that it was the target. As we looked around the square at the wonderful old gild encrusted buildings, their uppermost lights coming on as the day turns to night, it really is magical. We can just imagine what it must be like here after the winter snows, which aren’t too far away. They are already setting up the square for their Christmas festivities.
By contrast, we stumbled back home in the rain, the only bright lights coming from the windows in the red light district, with live mannequins bending, twisting, revolving and thrusting their wares Amsterdam style. Now that was unexpected. We decided that it would be prudent to head for home.
We finally managed to stagger our way to the train station, unsure whether the staggering was due to the breakfast, or the weight of our packs. Today we were bound for Brussels. As soon as we boarded the train, we were greeted and surrounded by the grim countenance of the Brusselians. We haven’t met such a serious looking lot since we left Zurich. Maybe it’s the weather. The grey sky, and the fact that if it isn’t raining, its about to.
The only exception was our new host (Adi) who greeted us with a chirpy “Hi!” and an enthusiastic tour of the premises and summary of the cities sights that “you simply must see.” Not sure yet if he is gay or a dance instructor. The four cats certainly weren’t letting the extra cat out of the bag.
After settling in we went for a stroll into the city, and after walking a few streets discovered that we seem to be staying in the Middle Eastern quarter. As we meandered into town, a couple of fresh waffles under our belts (Mmmmmm!), and a couple of grand old churches, we arrived at the Central Square, with it’s surrounding magnificent old buildings. The Hotel de Ville is worthy of note, being the only building to escape the French bombardment in 1695. Ironic considering that it was the target. As we looked around the square at the wonderful old gild encrusted buildings, their uppermost lights coming on as the day turns to night, it really is magical. We can just imagine what it must be like here after the winter snows, which aren’t too far away. They are already setting up the square for their Christmas festivities.
By contrast, we stumbled back home in the rain, the only bright lights coming from the windows in the red light district, with live mannequins bending, twisting, revolving and thrusting their wares Amsterdam style. Now that was unexpected. We decided that it would be prudent to head for home.
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