After the fact- thankfully after- when I was telling a friend about our trip to Belgium and mentioned that the weather was not always perfect, he responded with the politest of ‘what did you expect responses’. Something like: ‘Yes, I was wondering why you chose to visit Belgium in the springtime.’ Belgium, it seems, has a bit of a reputation for rain. And Ghent, my friends, was a little bit Grey.
It feels right to begin Montreal with a church. Mostly because I have that ‘Catholic Confession’ feeling running through my head whenever I think of all things blog related. “Forgive me I have sinned. It has been six weeks since my last blog post” yadayadayada.
It’s gonna be a long one folks, strap yourselves in.
We arrived in Lisbon in the late afternoon, and took a bus from the airport into the city. A bus which played music that flittered back and forth between not-quite golden oldies and what I can only assume were Portuguese classics.
Just a quick photo-filled post to finish up last summer’s Spanish trip…
We’re actually in Spain right now, doing the most German of things and holidaying in Mallorca over Christmas … I’m currently sitting in the hostel common room listening to some of our adopted-countrymen chatting away at breakfast… Not a spanish word in ‘sight’. But I still didn’t put up the final (two) installment(s) of our Grand Summer Holiday in Spain. Andy’s face shows his disappointment in my tardiness:
In a good year, Germany seems to me to have an overabundance of public holidays. If I’m really objective about it, they don’t have a whole lot more than in Australia. But they do have more than the stingy university system, which only grants national, but not WA state holidays. But there’s this weird system here, where public holidays are set by date. And when I say ‘weird’ I mean ‘actually totally objectively correct’. But in Aussieland we push everything to the nearest Friday or Monday. Here, if the holiday falls on a Saturday or a Sunday, it’s gone.
Bilbao was all about the Guggenheim.
It’s time for more mountains!
Don’t do what we did. After driving for a few hours, the last stretch of it through windy roads and on the edge of a mountain, we stumbled out of the car and sat down to have lunch. And then we had a little stroll, and a little look at the mountain, and a perused the gift shop. And only at that point did we realise that the queue for the cable car was two hours long. So you know, when you go to Fuente Dé (and you really should go there), go straight to the ticket counter and buy your ticket.