Castles in the sky.

The river trip is at an end and we are now in Brussels, Belgium and have until Wednesday to make our way down to Paris and then home. It has been three months and unlike our trip last year we did not have the benefit of Murray and Jill to inject a couple of familiar faces. This is not to say that we have not had great company, we have and people have been very kind to us, but three months is a long time to be living out of a suitcase.

Castles in the sky along the Rhine

They were many and varied.

 The past two weeks have been great, unpack once and that's that until you leave. Food has continued to be a bit of a problem, the quality has been excellent but the quantity,   it just keeps on being there from 7.30 in the morning till 9.0 to0 at night. Last evening we had the captain's farewell cocktail party followed by captains diner. The party was the usual drinkies and nibbles and this was followed by a six course diner.....New Zealand rack of Lamb making out star billing at least our Indonesian head chef assures us that it is New Zealand lamb cooked to perfection and really tender and yummy.

Pudding at Captain's Diner 

Lee and I with Roger and Barbara 

Andrew, the Farmer,  I always had a feeling that I was talking to Prince Charles

And these people completed our social circle aboard the Lord Byron

Living with people for two weeks in confined spaces soon drafts people into groups of like minded folks and so it was that the same ones seem to hang out together from the beginning to end. We being of antipodean origins seemed to attract all sorts and we would often be accosted with "Oh you are the New Zealanders, really wanted to go there" or some such other opening gambit, and that would be another half hour or so gone. By and large we have been treated very well, even winning at ruggers has not dented the enthusiasim, buying a found of drinks to celebrate the All Blacks win will not have done our popularity any harm.

We, neither Mrs Currin nor myself, have fallen in love with Brussels, it may be that we have not seen her at her best as I am told that she can be quite ravashing given the right mood. It may be that getting lost, not I , the bus driver I mean, the one taking us to the railway station, the Gare du Midi, where some of the party were to take the Eurostar back to St Pancras and then to their homes. This was not to be for Mrs Currin and I you will understand, no we had Brussels to see and other places as well, but we did not fall for Brusssels, she just wasn't our sort. We had booked a car here but found out a couple of days ago that we would not be able to collect it after 14h00 and we wouldn't be there in time no matter what, even had the bus driver not become lost. We had thought this one through and changed our booking for the airport at Brussels, they were open til 22h30...now how do you like that Brussels. The train as promised delivered us at the airport and before long we were comfortabley in a brand new Volvo automatic and on a one way hire down to Paris, not bad for having booked a Ford Focus manual, some people deserve it.

We had not stayed at a Camponile since last year in Spain and so it was pleasing that nothing  had changed, small and  not particularly up market, but adequate for for our needs, it  didn't matter that the water was cold in the morning as we had showered the evening before and the offer of wiping the previous evenings drinks Bill in compensation only added to the buoyant mood that accompanied us as we set off for Ghent the following morning. Ghent is a quite lovely wee place and has many historic buildlings. We took a short canal boat ride to see it at close hand and wern't at all disappointed for having done so.

Ghent (Various spellings depending on language)

 A short drive and we were soon in Brugges, this is truely magnificent and we could have spent much longer soaking up it's delights. This is Christmas, or at least it is approaching, and Belgium excels in Christmas temptations.

Shops full of Chocolate, to tempt the vulnerable young (and old)

 Time was starting to run low and we still had much to do and so reluctantly pushed on to Ypres where we had booked a B&B for the night. Arived Ypres and despite ringing and knocking it would appear that the owners of our B&B were not at home. I phoned them and found they were, indeed, not at home, out in the country for the day, they would be home by 18h30, would we mind waiting, we could have their superior room for no extra cost. We could have an early tea I suggested to Mrs Currin. We felt like a Chinese meal that evening so off to the information centre to check out on the array of Asian restaurants in town, there was but one Chinese and very good it was indeed, a great meal. The B&B was fabulous as were our host and hostest. This year, as I am sure will be known by all, is the centenary of the start of the WW1 and it is very relavent to this part of the world and so it seemed only appropriate that we should go down to the Menin gate for the Last Post. We were blissfully unaware of the readings and choirs that would also be part of the celebrations that night but a dashed good showing all round, many hundreds had turned out. Next morning we went to one of the war graves (Polygon Woods) where New Zealanders from Pashendale are buried to pay our respects, and on to Messin that town with a particularly New Zealand flavour, a statue of the New Zealand soldier and streets names in their honour. 

The New Zealand soldier, Messin

I had one more duty in this neck of the woods and that was a visit to my great uncle, my grandma's favourite brother and so it was to Gezaincourt in the Somme, a town which had no reason. to be fought over, especially by young men from the other side of the world, men who had not seen much more than their own back yards, and neither would they had not this war to end all wars happen into their lives. It was cruel, these young men had no right to take their innocence all the way to France with them, then leave it there, nor should their country have expected them to protect it's mother's dignity against those upstart Germans. No these were ordinary young Kiwis like my uncle James, a railway porter then a private, then a sergeant and then company sergeant major and then he was dead, all in less than a year. They say many went for the adventure, I hope they found some before it was all to late. The place where James now lies is well maintained by the Commonwealth War cemeteries commission, but not so the road to it. 

The cemetery was well kept.

As was Uncle James' grave

It is indeed a shame that the most significant thing that my uncle was to achieve in his shot life should be ignored by the powers that be. He achieved promotion at a. staggering rate reaching Company Major

It is a rude affair, two muddy tracks, we worried that the Volvo may become bogged but it was nothing to what these dead young men had had to endure, they had to dig trenches in it, fight in it, eat in it, sleep in it and finally die in it....all we did was to drive along it and dirty our car.

I may sound a little bitter in my opinions of ww1, but  find it very difficult to reconcile the killing of so many young men by  both sides when it is so hard to find the reason for their hatred of one another. Both enjoyed ideas of imperial grandeur and both denied the right of the other to have such ideas. This conflict could so easily been avoided with just a little diplomacy and a little more goodwill than waa available at that time, so let's just kill each other instead.

On that note I shall take my leave and wish you all the best, we arrive home this 

coming Friday and look forward to having a big catchup.

All the best and take care.

David