We rolled early into Hamburg. Since we had reduced our load to just the essentials, we could now fit all of our belongings into a single locker. We wandered about Hamburg searching for a suitable place to put down some breakfast and a few early morning beers. That day had been earmarked as a day to relax, to kick back and enjoy the city’s parks and its many bridges. (more…)
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We found ourselves a small room above a bar not far off the main square of Brugge, claimed ourselves bed, dropped off our stuff and hit the local canals for a little sightseeing. We roamed among the flower vendors, chocolate shops, lingered behind a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette while standing on a humped-backed bridge. I enjoyed the mood of the weeping willows and gazed endlessly at the reflections painted by the water. (more…)
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We headed into Gent to be part of its annual festival. I, like a honeybee, danced from flower to flower collecting smiles, memorable fragrances. The next day started off with the similar ritual of walking into Brugge’s main square for a cup of coffee, this time before we jumped a train into Brussels. We trekked about the old section of the city and checked out the local sites. Muscles in Brussels and beers, muscles in Brussels and beers. (more…)
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I was intrigued with the works of Escher and understood there was an exhibit in the Hage, so I persuaded Jim to board a late train out of Luxembourg. We arrived in to Rotterdam even later. There didn’t seem to be anybody but the two of us, the streets were virtually empty. We wandered toward the lights advertising vacancies and pounded on doors until one finally opened. The price the gentlemen in pajamas requested was outrageous. (more…)
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Roger, a minister from back home who had conducted numerous musicals at our high school and local theater, headed up a choir that was touring Europe this year. I was given their schedule of appearances and some of those dates were approaching, so we made a decision to seek them out rather than tolerate the German rain. (more…)
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