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We wandered among its narrow streets that radiated out like spokes to a wheel. Bicycles danced across our path. Up one of these many streets we spotted a small coffee shop adjacent to one of the more picturesque canals. It was a good day for mischief. It had a large window and we noticed that the table upfront was vacant and had a nice view of a small flower market. …
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At the breakfast table there were rumors of another train strike, so about six of us headed out early to attempt to board the last train prior to any stoppage. Our destination was Mont-St-Michel. When the island first came within view I stood there for some time and gazed at its glory. It had more a look of a cover to a picture book than something actually real, a castle right out of some fairytale. There were endless fields of mud waiting for the imprint of somebody’s foot. …
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I woke up in the middle of a desert of reddish clay painted orange by the rising sun. As the ride wore on the sun converted our compartment from a cozy bed into practically an oven. Each hill looked the same as the one before it rolling one after another past my window. If one didn’t know any better it could be assumed that my window was the backdrop to a movie set. …
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I darted around from one small town to another and eventually followed a young lady into Kuopio. She explained that she had been traveling in Germany for the past few weeks and was reuniting with her boyfriend that evening. We kinda hit it off and she went out of her way to call a few of her friends to see if they could accommodate me with a room. She found me a beautiful cottage alongside one of the many lakes. I understood the cottage was her parents or an Aunt but they, like most the folks this time of year, were away on holiday. …
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We woke to another picturesque day and it wasn’t till we began driving the Ring of Kerry that we realized it was also a lucky day. We were heading clockwise, south to north and every possible tourist and circus was traveling in the other direction. This gave us the ability to stop and enjoy the scenery and not second guess our place in line or force us to let others dictate our pace. …
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We had purchased a train pass for the British railway that provided a few consecutive days on a train and then the use of a car. Our plan was to more or less travel north by train until we reached Inverness Scotland, from there we would rent a car and travel the West Coast of Scotland southward until we reached Liverpool. …
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The clouds had parted and the wings of our plane began to dry. The very first thing I noticed was that “I wasn’t in Kansas anymore”. Gatwick Airport had green pastures on both sides of the runway. Unconcerned cows looked up at our passing plane. This was a total contrast to the cement landscape we left behind in LA. …
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On the trip into Athens we were joined by another young lady and young man who had been pursuing her. She wasn’t interested in him but tolerated him because she liked the attention. At least that’s what she told us. We discussed renting a van and exploring Greece’s mainland. I wanted to visit Delos and then each extension of the Maurice Cross but Athens was first on our agenda and we decided to postpone making a decision until later. …
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When we reached the port we began to wander about. We really didn’t know which way to proceed but luckily we crossed paths with a couple who spoke English. They were retired Americans who had been living abroad for the last three years. Instead of joining a country club or pursuing some hobby back home they decided to see the world at a slow pace. They explained that they would live in a different city every three months or there about and they planned on doing that indefinitely. …
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Walked up one of the local hills and watched the sun rise over the valley. Then I took a trek back to the pools to get a few pictures without people climbing all over in them. They were so beautiful and unique. Shallow petal shaped pools with large expanses that had the texture and the look of snow. I expected the crunch of snow but was met with the resistance of rock. I sat alongside them for rest of the morning, just day dreamed and enjoyed the view. …
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I woke with that taste of too many cigarettes and one too many beers and wandered toward a morning coffee before it was back on the road again. We started down the coast searching for another room, kind of back tracking over the previous day’s plans but we ended up in Monte Carlo instead. It had just begun raining as we headed up one of the steep hills looking for shelter and a cup of coffee. We sat down alongside a window and while we sipped our coffee I noticed a motorcyclist get hit from behind. …
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Alongside the darkness we walked the city streets. It was a different feel since the majority of the shops were boarded up for the night. It gave the streets a maze like feel. We came upon a community of water pipes where I sat across from an elderly blind man and a few of his companions. We shared a pot of spearmint tea and a conversation. I had a picture taken but it was very dark and without a flash I wasn’t sure if it would come out. …
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After packing up my clean clothes I headed off early into the city, sat behind a cup of coffee just off the main square, with pen in hand I watched the city wake up around me. I found myself staring at the unique inner walls of the St. Catherine’s church. The inside was different from what I expected from its outside. It captured my attention and soul. The contrast between the dark and light was not like others churches I have visited. I sat off in one of the corners and for some time stared at the many faces looking down on me. …
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It was raining a bit and we had a couple of open containers. The roads were narrow with no extra space to speak about. I knew if we got stuck behind another logging truck we could be here for weeks. Once we managed to pass a couple of these trucks we began to make up for some lost time. Jim began complaining that his bladder couldn’t take much more of this abuse but before I was willing to pull over, I wanted to put enough distance between ourselves and the logging trucks. …
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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. …
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