Actually, today's walk would have been slightly shorter, had we not had to take a long detour away from our route to get to our hotel. The hotel is, by the way, is pleasantly situated within hearing distance of a busy ring-road and has air conditioning that periodically leaps into action with all the subtlety of a Concorde taking off. It could be an interesting night and I might have to foresake my intended sobriety for some of that special Belgian sleeping potion.
The walk itself was a pleasant one along the banks of the canal that runs from Ghent to Oostende via Bruges. When I say canal, however, the British amongst us have to forget notions of narrow-boats – it is w---i---d----e.
Getting out of Ghent was a trial in itself – it just seemed to go on forever. Somewhat disorientated, we asked a man, who was emerging from his house with his young son, for directions. We were really only asking for a general direction to get us back on track but he insisted on delaying his journey and study his own map, to help us. Having sorted it out in his own mind, he then insisted on driving us to the point on the canal that we were trying to get to.
So instead of going out with his son, this lovely man, packed me, Doris and his son, into his car to drive us to somewhere that we could usefully restart our journey. Not very far away, as it turned out but we were and are very grateful.
Later on, we were passed by and amazing looking vehicle that seemed to be some combination of a low-lying bicycle and a go-kart. It zipped past so quickly, that I didn't get time to snap a picture. Later, however, we came across it's driver, studying a map on a bridge that we were crossing. Not only could I now get a picture but he was a studying a cycling route map that we had previously been told didn't exist for this area.
“Yes, I'm English,” he responded to by standard opening of “excuse me but do you speak English”.
As an aside, most Belgians seem to speak almost flawless English. They usually respond to my question by telling me, modestly, that they speak a little, before conversing faultlessly.
Anyway, “G”, the Englishman, told me that he was testing the vehicle, which I think he said was called a “velomobile”, as he was thinking of buying one. Despite the slightly worn exterior of this particular model, he proceeded to tell me the technical details which seemed impressive, even though most of it went over my head.
“It goes like the clappers,” G informed me and this I well understood.
He then helpfully read out, what I now know as node numbers, from the cycle route map, charting our journey from where we were to our destination. I thanked him for his kindness and he returned to tinkering with his vehicle.
Later, as we walked along the canal, the velemobile passed us at speed - a cheery disembodied hand waved from the cockpit and it disappeared into the distance, going like the clappers.
I never did add a musical choice for yesterday, so for the second time am going to have a single choice for yesterday and today.
I am not supposed to tell you but Doris has had a problem with her foot that has been troubling her at least a couple of weeks. She has some sort of strain that eases with walking in the morning but stiffens up and becomes painful in the afternoon. But day after day, she laces her foot tightly into her boot and carries on as if nothing were wrong. At the end of today, I think it was particularly painful.
I am not supposed to tell you because, I think, she thinks it might make her sound like and attention seeking, drama queen, wimp. Nothing could be further from the truth. She is nothing short of courageous although I know she will not like me saying it - so please keep it just between just you and me.
So the choice for both yesterday and today is dedicated to Doris and Elton John's “I'm still standing.”
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