We left the morning of June 23rd. This little band of us all met at a local high school to take a coach to JFK. Rain fell all morning as we gathered in the parking lot to wait for the coach. It is tradition that we pose for a picture before the tour, and they were gracious enough to let us use the school's auditorium and risers to take the picture.

The drive to the airport was fine. Only minor traffic. Never stopped moving for too long. And, we finally made it out of the rain. Our spirits lifted at that.

We were delayed a while at JFK about an hour. Once we took off it was smooth skies for our Swiss Air flight. All of the flight crew with little Swiss Flags on their cheeks. I am assuming in support of their footbal team for World Cup.

We had quite a layover in Zurich. I was feeling it by then. Despite my neck pillow, I only nodded off a couple of times. I was hoping for some sleep. But it was not to be.

I walked around the airport a bit. I sampled some chocolate. Ate a small portion of to die for strawberry ice cream. So creamy, and not too sweet.

I behaved myself walking past Armani, Burburry, Bulgari, and narrowly avoided buying a gorgeous scarf in another store. Only to be diverted with a friend to where they sold many perfumes. I was weak and purchased Moschino, Couture! I had been looking for it here in the states. Not to be found in the smaller towns where I live.

We had a short flight into Belgium. Less than an hour. We went through all the airport hassle and found out guide and coach. We went from Brusseles to Gent and because of the flight delays it was almost 6 pm before we got to the Castle of the Counts of Flanders.

We could not go through the castle as we were supposed to because they were closing.
So our guide, "M", took us for a walking tour of Gent.

We wound our way through cobble stone streets. We came out into a square with a market going on. In the middle of the square, a statue with the marking Jarob Uan Hrlrurlvr, I think it said. I was too keyed up to focus.

"M" was explaining where we and what was around us while I was looking at the stalls in the market. The jewelery, leather purses, clothes, some cute boho skirts, both longs and short and other wares. Just listening at the people speaking to one another in different languages.

We walked around along side of a canal, taking all the sites in. Taking a ton of pictures. I saw a scarf I could not resist and purchased it. It was a silk scarf, turquoise in color and has a nice floral embroidered pattern to it. Lagging behind, I quickly caught up to our group.

We headed to our hotel. It was going on 7pm by then, I think. We checked into Novotel Gent Centrum, Goudenleeuwplein 5, 9000 Gent, Belgium. Tel from USA: 001-32-9-224-2230.

This hotel had 117 rooms was in the historic heart of Flanders. There was even a really neat 14th century cellar that can do parties and banquets.

My room was nice. Large bed, and a couch. I was comfortable. They had a garden out back. I sat outside a little before dinner. We had an onion soup that night that was good.

I went for a short walk to burn off some of that dinner, and needed to head back to lay down for some much needed rest after two days of traveling.

I was just starting to get undressed when I hear a very loud alarm, right outside my door. I take my purse and pashmina and head out the door. People had their heads out of doors and some out in the corridor, all looking at me and asking, "What is that?" "The fire alarm", I reply. I head towards the stairs. They look at me quizzcly and say, "You're leaving?" "Um, yes." I reply, "It is the FIRE alarm."

Down the steps and into the courtyard I go. Watching the kids on duty that night running around like crazed chickens. I am thinking that at this point there is no fire. But they cannot seem to shut off the alarm.

Some people were outside with me. It took at least 15 minutes for them to get the alarm off. I talked with others from my group for quite a while wrapped up in my scarf. Finally heading in at about 10:30 pm. It was not dark so it did not seem that late.

I knew I needed sleep, first concert of the trip, bright and early wake up call at 6am.

Six AM comes really early. We are going to be on the move already. I set out my luggage and head down to breakfast, dressed in concert attire.

I was holding my breath as I went to the desk to settle my phone bill from the night before. After all, I have read the horror stories on Fodors about the telephone bills when you dial direct using the hotel phone. I had not gotten a phone card. I kept the conversation short, "Hi! It'smeIamaliveandwellandinGhent."

"Slow down. What?" DH says. Geepers, doesn't he understand English? I tell him again, and the conversation is short. I will call again I tell him.

I tell the desk clerk I need to pay for my call, I brace myself, and let the air out slowly preparing to pass out. "one euro eighty". Okay, that I can live with. I happily pay it.

I love the yogurt in Europe. You cannot seem to get decent yogurt where I live. They have artificial sweetner or they are made with 2% milk. Yuck. Give me great thick, creamy full fat yogurt. I ate fruit, and some eggs as well.

We all pile on the coach, and head to Izegem to sing at St. Pieter's Church. Our director gives us the order of what we will be singing. Each time there will be different songs from our current repitoire. The current list: Amazing Grace, A Clare Benediction, Shall We Gather at the River, This Little Light of Mine, Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty!, Count Your Blessings Insteed of Sheep, You Raise Me Up, Shenandoah, Hey Look Me Over, I Love A Piano, The Birth of the Blues, Manattan Melodies, (medley of Forty SecondStreet NY NY and Lullaby of Broadway), A Steven Foster Tribute (including Swanee River, Beautiful Dreamer, Camptown Races, The Glendy Burke and Some Folks Like to Sigh.), When I Fall In Love, Over the Rainbow, and Sing, Sing, Sing!

We are to sing the religious pieces during mass, and the secular ones afterward. The church is lovely.

I left my camera on the coach. No pictures for me. What a dummy.

Mass starts and I am suddenly homesick for my own church. But then as we get into the Mass, I am strangely comforted and moved to tears. You see even though it is in Dutch, I know where we are in the service, so different, but yet so similar. This is a comfort to me as I sing and pray, in English.

The congregation sounded beautiful as they sung the responses to throughout the mass. It was nice.

We had them toe tapping to This Little Light of Mine and I could see people trying to look at our "banjo man" while he was playing. Our choir was facing the congregation. but the congregation was facing the altar.

They had a place for us to change clothes and had a small reception for us after singing. That was very nice of them to do. Lovely church and wonderful people.

My throat is kinda sore at this point. I think maybe the travel and singing has gotten to me a bit. Pop in a hard candy and shake it off.

We headed out for Namur. We stopped at a restaurant for lunch in Nazareth, I think it was. I was translating the menu for my table. The waiter said I did a "fine job". Hey, you don't use the 8 years of French you had for twenty years, and you are quite rusty.

I had Croque Monsieur. It was very good. Everyone was happy with their choices and the food was good.

I have to say that I love it that people can go all over iwth their dogs and no one cares. I saw so many people out with their dogs. Same when I was in the UK, it was great.

By now, it's pouring down rain. But I am enjoying the roadside scenery none the less. The homes that I saw while in Belgium were beautiful. I took pictures of many, and of the cows along the road.

My husband is a diary farmer, and we have holstiens. I saw quite a few of those, but they had beefier looking cows that were white and specckled with black. I thought those were neat looking. One dairy farmer I was traveling with called them Belgian Blues. I don't know if that was correct, but it fit.

It stopped raining by the time we got to the Namur Fortress. We went up on the over look, and took some pictures of the town below. It was hazy but the view was still nice.

We walk around there for a while, and head back to the coach for our travel along the Meuse into Dinant. Il pleut a verse. I am hoping that the rain will stop. But it doesn't by the time we get there it is coming down in buckets, and there is nuch thunder and lightening.

So much for our walking tour. We decide to check into the hotel early. Novotel Namur Wepion, Chaussee de Dinant 1149, 5100 Wepion Belgium. Telephone from USA: 001-32-81-46-0811
website www.novotel.com www.accorhotels.com

I write out post cards, and write in my journal and make some phone calls. Before I know it, it is time for dinner. I dress up for dinner, and put on my lovely new scarf that I purchased in Gent.

I have been paling around with a gentleman that is also traveling without his spouse and because he is without a roommate, and buddy to go around with, we clicked. "Mr T" is a great guy, and we had been sitting and talking on the coach together and we sit near eachother for dinner too.

"Mr T" is a balloon man. He can make those little ballon animals and things. To some childrens great delight, he makes some for them after dinner, and they are thrilled with their new little fiends. He made an apple for our director, and flowers for our table.

Dinner was good. We had a mozzerella and tomato salad, Beer cooked with Leffe (Belgian Beer) and chocolate mousse.

They had some wine and sparkling and still water on the table as well.

After dinner some of us decide to go for a walk. Some went to get some strawberries they saw at a near by road side stand. Apparently this area is known for it's strawberries. There is even a strawberry museum. I decide to walk along the Meuse with some others.

It was really beautiful, but a tad foggy. We turn left as we get to the river and come across a stunning chateau. If it wasn't so foggy, my pictures would have been even better, with the reflection in the river. There were gorgeous homes along the river, and it was a really great night to walk.

I have to say that I loved Belgium. I think the Netherlands was nice, but over all Belgium really spoke to me. The architecture, the people the food, everything.

We got back to the hotel after 10 pm. all of us laughing and joking and telling stories. Mr P, he is laying on a white lie that is all too much for me to bear. I say "Okay Pinocchio, you do know it is your nose that grows, and not anything else, right?" That got a hearty laugh. And ended another night.


Monday, June 26th. Breakfast was at 730 am. We got on our way to visit the castle of Lavaux-Ste-Anne. It was very pretty. We went around and explored the castle, and there were some musicians in period costume playing some music. I walked through all the rooms taking pictures. I was suprised at the large painting of the hunting dogs. Pretty gorey.

There was some nice pieces of furniture, and some hunt clothes and a dress that was interesting. There is a museum of wildlife that can be found in the surrounding area.

I bought some soaps in the gift shop. Rose, lilac, and violet.

We then headed out to Bastogne. When we got there we watched a short film. It made me cry a few times. I did not know much about the battle that took place there. I was learing as I went a long. I walked through the exhibits looking at it all. I have a friend that is very into Civil War and WWII history. I bought him a shirt Sreaming Eagles, with NUTS on it. I knew that he would like it and know what it was. I bought my huband a hat, and a picture book about it.

I went out to the memorial. It is big, and star shaped. Along the top, are the 50 states, the poutside columns list the divisions and the different troops that were there. The inside columns tell the story of the battle, and the middle has the marker.

My best friend's cousin lost his father there. So I said a little prayer for him for a little while.

I am petrified of heights and made myself climb the spiral stair case to the top of the monument.

By the time I got to the top, I thought I would pass out. I was about hyperventaling. I had to calm myself. It was a nice view. But I was scared to death. Great, now I have to walk back down.

I made it. But I went slow, and tried not to look down. I went to the crypt and tried to read the marker in the middle, but I was too short to see it.

I spotted some of those neat looking cows. A little off in the distance. I had not been able to get a good picture as we were passing them in the coach. I thought I would get down in there and get a good picture.

Through the shrubs I went going into where I knew I should not, but wanting to see the cows and get a picture for the husband. You want to see those girls jump up when I got to the fence. I though oh no, maybe this wasn't a good plan. They did not get agitated though, just very curious. I got my pictures and rejoined the group to head into the town of Bastogne for lunch.

Your report is just wonderful. Looking forward to reading more.

Nice concert program too. What choir do you sing with?

What a great report!
I had to giggle a bit (pardon me) because of Jarob Uan Hrlrurlvr ... The statue on Vrijdagmarkt in Gent is Jacob Van Artevelde. I guess you were too jetlagged to see clearly. ;-)
Your friend is right: those black and white cows are indeed called Belgian Blues. They are all over Belgium.
Waiting for the next installment ...

bardo1, thank you. I sing with a Chorale from Pennsylvania. We have a little over 80 memebers, less than half of us went on the trip.

Myriam C, I appreciate that correction. I told you I was tired. I tried to copy what I saw. I think I need to break down and admit that I need glasses too!

Sorry for the typos, and spelling errors too. I am not the best writer.


Okay, so into Bastogne we go. Along the way, every mile is marked with the stone markers that show the route the Americans took to get to Bastogne.

The town was nice, but much to my dismay all of the clothing stores were closed. I saw so many cute things in the windows, and could not make one purchase. Actually somebody must have been trying to tell me something, because that was happening most of my trip. No time to stop and shop when stores were open, none open when there was time!

After taking a walk around the square and taking a picture or three, I went into a shop to get a bite to eat on the corner. They had pastries and sandwiches. I split a half a baguette with a friend. It was good bread with ham, hard cooked egg, ham, cheese, tomato, carrot and lettuce. It was good. I also got a marzipan covered piece of layered heaven, which I ate later on the coach. I think the name of the place we ate was called Nannan's.

We head back to Wepion on the coach. I am eager to send out my post cards, though I am confused about the postage. The woman at the Chateau sold me postage with my cards, the lady at Bastogne, she said that it was not enough postage and that she would not sell me any more stamps to make up the difference. When I had asked her what shall I do with the post cards, she tells me to go find a post office. Which I obviosly could not do since I am on a coach with 45 other people, and have no control of where I go, since I am on a scheduled tour. She finally relented, and sold me more stamps. No one got any post cards from me, at least not as of yesterday, so who knows if the postage was correct! I will check again today.

We have dinner again at the hotel, and they give us wine again with dinner, and everyone has a nice time. We walk along the Meuse again, this time heading right. The houses were nicer the other way, so was the view in general. We do try to talk to a woman and her daughter along the way. I know very little French, and they very little English, but it was a nice conversation, and I was glad we tried to talk with them. There was a big fluffy kitty that was sitting in a weedy lot. We stopped to look at her a while and she finally got up and walked off. Strutting away with her little nose in the air, with an attitude. Typical cat.

I walked back to the hotel and Mr T was there, came out for his walk. I told him the view was much better in the other direction, so instead of going in to retire, I walked with him.

I really don't know how I gained two pounds with all of the walking I did.
We talked about our families, and since we are both from Sicilian families, food. We traded recipes, and talked about holidays, and about food and more food. We watched the fish jumping up to eat, the different water fowl, and enjoyed eachother's company.

This was the last night in Belgium, we would be off to The Netherlands in the morning.

My throat is now very sore as I brush my teeth. I am really tired, I figure that I will feel better with some rest and crawl into bed.

Tuesday, June 27.

I wake up and my throat is killing me. I mean, I can hardly swallow. How am I going to sing????????????

This is not a good way to start my day, and the rain this morning is only adding ot my cranky demeanor. I look out the window, and watch the rain falling, disturbing the calm surface of the Meuse, and think to myself I would rather crawl back into bed.

I can't though, and get my morning routine going. I need to get down to breakfast. Don't ask me how I am going to swallow any food, since swallowing my own saliva is a chore.

But I must get food in me, even though I am not hungry. I grab some ibuprofen and the room key, and head down.

As soon as I get in the room for breakfast, people are asking if I am okay. No, I am not. But, I hope to be. The director gets wind of my malady and asks if I can sing. I tell her I did not even try, I am scared to.

We start for Amsterdam in the rain, my mood even more sour. I am falling asleep on the coach, I know I am running a fever. I am covered up to my neck, wrapped in my rain coat and pashmina as I slip in and out of a none too restful, fitful moments of slumber.

Looking out the window, I see Belgium, and it's characteristic homes slip away, until we are in Holland. It has it's own beauty, and it is nice. It does not tug to my heart as Belgium seems to.

There are more sheep, none of those Belgian Blues, I have come to enjoy seeing.

But there are windmills, and flat pastures, divied by a stip of water. Reclaimed lands, I think to myself.

I suddenly realize, it is not raining anymore. I close my eyes, and say a silent prayer for healing. Mrs. B sitting infront of me just at that moment asks if I am okay. No, I am not. She asks, if I would like to pray. I nod, and she takes my hand, and she prays. I am at least feeling like I know HE is with me.

I fall asleep until we stop for lunch. But my throat is still really sore.

Sounds like you are singing mostly American pieces...I like that. I've toured several times with our church choir but I've never been able to convince our choir director to concentrate on uniquely American works.

Sounds like a nice trip!
The Blanc Bleu Belge (BBB) is sort of the national cow. They are sometimes crossed with other breeds. Many Belgian restaurants will note on the menu that their beef is BBB.
More info:
http://www.ulg.ac.be/fmv/bbb/bc.htm (a pro-BBB site)

Missypie, yes our spring concert was all American pieces, since we knew that was what we would perform in Europe.

Our director said that is what they want. Things they do not hear, things unique to America. This was her 4th or 5th time for touring with this choir, maybe even more.

BTilke, it is a good thing that I did not know that I was eating those cows. I know that makes me sound like an idiot, but they were cute.

We took a canal tour when we got to Amsterdam. It was nice, but our captain told some really bad, hokey jokes, but it was a good tour on the canal.

The buildings along the canal were neat. Some so skinny. One was just about the width of a window. You can see how some of them are leaning. They are very noticeable. I would be afraid they would collapse.

After the canal tour we got back off the coach in Amsterdam and walked from the Victoria Hotel (I think it was) to the square. I cannot believe how people are riding bicyles all over this city. The traffic is nuts, and people are all over. It reminded me a lot of Manhattan, but not as clean.

I walked past the Sex museum, and remembered that some one just posted a trip report, and said that they went there. I probably would not have even noticed it otherwise. I don't think that anyone from our group went, but I am not sure.

Our tour guide talked about some things in the square, and then we just went walking, and talking to people. We found a place where Mr T had some pizza, I grabbed some fries with mayo, and friend S got a piece of chicken to nibble on.

At this point, not only do I have the sore throat, but now my ear has a serious pain in it, and every time I swallow, I get this wicked pain in my ear and down my throat.

We get some wooden shoes for a lady that could not come on the tour with us, and I get a few charms and gifts for my family. Back on the coach we go to Hilversum to check into our hotel.

BW Grand Hotel Gooiland, Emmastraat 2, 1211 NG Hilversum, The Netherlands, tel: 011-31-35-621-2331.

When we get there, I ask the woman at reception for salt packets. I get my room key and go up stairs and straight in to the room, and gargle. It helps for about 15 minutes.

I try some vocal warm ups, and I do have a voice, but it isn't the best. Concert again tomorrow night. I up my ibuprofen to 2 pills and lay down a bit before dinner.

We walked over to a sister hotel, Hotel Lapershoek for our dinner. We then walk back to the hotel. It is after 10:30Pm, so I make my calls, then crawl into bed.

Wednesday June 28th.

I am still sick, I get up and get inspiration to want to get up and get around when I remember that we are going to see the diamond cutters today.

Hello, what woman doesn't love diamonds. I am as perky as I can get considering that I cannot stand still, the bed felt pitched to me most of the night, and I still don't want to swallow. Apparently something going on with my inner ear.

Do you have any idea how many times a day that you swallow? I don't know, but it is a lot, and I will never take swallowing for granted again. No siree BOB.

We get to the diamond place. Coster Diamonds. We see the gentlemen polishing and cutting diamonds, and all that jazz. Then comes the good stuff. We all pile in a room, very tight squeeze all of us, and we are all locked in there.

They take out some gorgeous diamonds and show you them and talk about their characteristics and yada yada yada. These are the people who polished the Koh-i-Noor, we are talking crown jewels here people.

Shiney, shiney, pretty pretty. Then come out the trays of rings, bracelets, and all kinds of stuff. Of course all of us women are trying every thing we can get our hands on and the guys, well, they are just looking nervous and getting a better grip on the credit cards.

That is why I did not bring a husband. I try on a few rings and I am liking a lot of them. Mrs. B, who has been praying with me, says she sees a ring all the way over there that she thinks I would like. That leads to me seeing a gorgeous amythest ring.

I pluck it up and put it on. It fits, like a glove. It is so beautiful, just enough sparkle. Shiney, shiney, pretty, pretty. A few people oooh, and ahhh.

I decide I better look at the price tag. UGH. "How much would this come to?", I get brave and ask. She tells me, I wince. I am looking around at all the other really nice rings that I tried on. They are nice. But after trying on the amethyst one, they are just not doing it for me.

I ask for specifics about the ring that seems to love my right hand's ring finger. Two carat brillant cut amethyst, 20 rare white diamonds, very very small inclusions, 1/3 carat total weight, 18 k white and yellow gold.

What is not to love here? Well, out comes the credit card. So much for not charging anything that I could not immediately pay for when I got home. What? So I pay $50 a month until I croak. Yes, I am exaggerating. A little.

I feel a shot of adrenaline, while signing the receipt, and don't feel the sore throat or the ear pain for a little bit. I figure my husband will kill me when I get home.

I snap out of that reverie when Mrs. L is frantically searching for her credit card. It is apparently no where to be found. Most of the people have been buzzed out, I realize. It is only maybe 8 of us left that were making puchases.

Mrs. L, is looking decidedly ill, and looking everywhere on the floor for her card, and she isn't finding it.

A girl after my own heart! Just think how you would have yearned for that ring if you hadn't bought it! (Not to mention the healing power of shopping )

Please continue - I have to know what happened to Mrs. L's credit card . . .

Wed 28th, continued.

Mrs. L, is kindly talking to the employees, to please look around their counter and under it, and in back where they are standing for her card.

They are convinced that one of our group inadvertantly picked up the card. Or that one of our group stole her card. He sort of implied the lady next to Mrs. L may have picked it up.

I volunteer to stay up there with Mrs. L, while her husband goes down stairs to speak to any of our group, to see if they have the card. We had a choice after the Diamond Cutter. Heinekein Brewery, Anne Frank house, Rijkesmuseum. So some of our people are on the move, going to those places already. The hubby later tells me he asked some people who were left, but most said they did not have the card, but did not really check there stuff either. So, he and two others pull over to a quiet corner, and pray.

Meanwhile, I am upstairs with Mrs. L. The two employees are more focused on their own stuff, not really even helping her look for the card. They are seem to be convinced one of our group has it. They then finally agree to call upstairs to see if it went to be processed, it wasn't. When they get everything packed up, Mrs L asks to go behind the counter and look on the floor. She had given me her bag, and personal items which I was looking through every pocket, every paper for the card.

She asks the employees to please look in the boxes and things on the floor. I don't find anything and no one else does either.

She asks if they could open the cases one last time before putting the jewelery away, the woman who is more helpful than the gentleman, does so.
Nothing in there. They get locked away.

Finally, I think that the lady realized we are not going anywhere without the card. She starts to look, walks past a waste can behind the counter and sees it in there. She pulls it out, "Voila!"

Mrs. L jumped up on that woman and gave her the biggest hug. I am not sure I have ever seen such relief. At first the lady seemed shocked, but then hugged her back.

Poor Mrs. L was shaking hard with relief, and she was crying, I ws trying to get her to sit down, and in comes hubby.

Every one else pretty much has left. It is only me, and another couple. They are processing Mrs. L's purchase. I realize that it is almost noon. I am thinking my hopes of going through the Rijkesmuseum, are not going to happen. Due to the concert in the evening, and the time to meet the coach.

I walk over across the street, and the waiting time is an hour and a half to two hours. Not doable. Dissapointed, but when you need to be there for some one, well, that is more important.

We walk to the coach, and I am trying to figure out if I want to go to Anne Frank House. I decide to go with friend "S", and shop and walk, and eat through the streets of Amsterdam. I know me, and I would end up crying the whole time, at Anne Frank House, and I am still feeling cruddy, so I need something that won't depress me.

We walk through many streets and shops. I find a store that I really like, and we walk in, and I purchase a really cool, army green, fuller, knee length skirt for my niece. I also get her a fuschia colored "pashmina".

We walk, talk, shop, take pictures and have a nice time. The couple of hours goes by too quickly. We rejoin our group on the bus to head back to Hilversum. The director asks if I can sing tonight, and reminds me we also have a concert the next night too. Which is more important, I ask. She doesn't give me an answer, and says it is up to me.

When we get back to our rooms to get ready for concert. I gargle, and shower, and do some vocal warm ups. I have a voice, but not great.

I am thinking I will just sing really quietly. We get to the hall, and it is really nice. I can see that they have set up for a pretty large band.

The Fanfare Band are going to play first and then we will sing. We get a flyer, "Program Oranje Harmonie".
US National Anthem, Dutch National Anthem, Opening Speech, Valerius Variations, You Needed Me, Greased Lightning, a quartet doing In the Forest, Song, Calvary and Aura Lee, Spanish Triptych, Mr Brahms I Presume, and Holiday in Rio.

The program was awesome. The acoustics, were so good. The only thing is I think it is almost a little too loud, and it is kind of hurting my ears. I ask during the break if others think that it is too loud. It is me.

We line up on the stairs after the break and get started. Wow, the acoustics when we start, well I end up not taking it easy on my voice. I could not help but get caught up in the concert. I do hear our piano player hit a wrong note somewhere. She never does that. I don't think the audience would have noticed it. I later find out that the piano cover came down on her fingers, and later that the page turner turned two pages at the same time.

The concert was really nice, and we did well. They presented us with some little gifts, and we gave them some as well. It is a late evening getting back to the hotel and I am beat.

Delft in the morning.

June 29th, Thursday.

I wake up in the morning, and it is apparent that I have pushed myself to the limit. I have no voice. None. I realize it was stupid to do, but there you have it. No singing for me tonight.
It will be a Millie Vanillie night for me.

We drive from Hilversum to Delft and arrive in Delft for our appointment at 11am for the Pottery Factory Tour. We are taken in and we are lead by a nice girl who is explaining everything to us. We head into a beautiful garden/courtyard.

When we get inside there is just so many beautiful things to look at and take pictures of. We watched them painting tile, vases, pressing clay into plates, filing off edges, and spraying glaze. We learned about the process, and watched her pour the clay into the mold and make a thimble.

I took so many pictures. I loved all the tile pictures, especially Rembrant's Night Watch.

We looked around in the gift shop. I could not purchase anything since I bought the ring. But I looked at everything. Expensive, and lovely things. One tiny thimble was 35 euro, I think. I did not get the real deal. I did purchase two ornaments as gifts, and a salt and pepper shaker gift too.

I really enjoyed this. This was a close favorite to the diamond experience.

Delft Pottery: Delftweg 133, Postbus 400, 2600 AK Delft
T + 31 (0)15 212 49 20
www.delftsepauw.com
email: [email protected]


We went into Delft to walk around, and explore. There was a market going on, and much to explore. I really enjoyed this. I was suprised at the garbage in the canals though.

We walked through the town taking in the sights, and nibbling from the different stands as we passed by. A piece of cheese, a small container of rasperries, a bit of cherries, and I had fries with mayo again.

We checked out the two old churches that were there. I guess one preceeded the other by 150 years.

There was a great section of flowers. We walked past there and I kept having to stop and smell the flowers, and take pictures of them.

There was a neat city hall building there. I also like the part of the old gate that was left. I bought a post card of that.

We stopped and had drinks and coffee at an outdoor cafe. Talking to other tourists and some locals. It was a nice day.

We board the coach, and arrive in Den Haage. We check into the Hotel Mercure. Let me just tell you that they are under construction. It is LOUD, very loud. I wanted to lay down to take a nap after I do the salt water garggle. I have to put in my earplugs, but they barely help. They are using some serious tools. Sounds like jack hammers, and everything is vibrating in my room. I am too tired and sick to call the desk and complain. I set my alarm just in case I do fall asleep, and wait on my luggage to arrive. I nod off but never for more than a few minutes.

I shower, and head down for dinner. It is there that we receive a letter from the hotel to inform us of the fact that they are doing renovation work, in two periods. The first period starting 26th of June to August 31, 2006. It will be between 8am and 10pm.

So if you are staying there, be forwarned. We had no idea this was happening before we got there. Info on hotel: Mercure Hotel Den Haag Central, Spui 180, 2511 BW Den Haag, The Netherlands. Tel: 011-31-70-3636-700. www.mercure.com email: [email protected]


When we went down for dinner, there was a lot of stuff going on. Someone who seemed rather important had arrived, and was escorted aroud by men in uniform and was perhaps an important official. There were uniformed men everywhere and a band. It seemed that there was going to be a ceremony of some sort in a courtyard by the hotel there. We were told that it was Veteran's Day. When we were boarding the caoch to go to the concert there were kilt clad bag pipers there. I wanted to stay and see them.

marking

Here are some pictures that I have started on my blog. It will be a while, since I have dial up and it takes forever to up load pictures for me.

Hopefully this link will work.

http://dsm22.blogspot.com/

Thursday continued.

So our friendship concert with Hervormd Kerkkoor Delft was nice. We started it off and there were 15 minute segments between the two choirs. at the end we all sang You'll Never Walk Alone together.

They sang in English for one song each segment. The songs they sang in English were, I love you My Lord, Jacob's Ladder, and Honour Him Alone.

The people were very friendly and they gave us a gift of black liquorice with little wooden shoes on them and a red white and blue ribbon. They had a little reception afterwards with drinks and little nibbles. It was quite nice.

I only sang a couple of songs. I was still feeling horrible, if not getting slightly worse.

When I got back to my room, I turn on the news. With my very little French, I see and sort of figure out that the ceremony at the hotel was being shown on the news.

I try to call my parents, their phone is still not working, I leave a message on my husband's phone, and I try my best friends' house. I am trying to get someone to call my doctor in the morning because I am so bad I can hardly stand up.

I crawl into bed, and watch the room spin for a while. I finally fall asleep.



Friday, June 30th.

As soon as I get back from breakfast, before check out time I call my husband. It is 2am in the States
so he was obviously asleep. I tell him that he needs to call my doctor, I obviously have some kind of ear infection, or sinus infection, becasue I am getting much worse, and not one bit better. See if he can get me Ceftin or some antibiotic. I am petrified to get on a plane and fly home with the way my ears are killing me.

I tell him to call the hotel in Brugge tell them to expect a fax of a perscription from the physician. He sounds as if he is fast asleep still. I have him repat everything back to me, and ask him if he is going to remember what to do. He says yes, and I hope so.

We check out and head out to see the 18th century windmills at Kinderdijk. There are 19 mills in the small area that we visited. It is very picturesque. I go into the one windmill that they have open to the public. I realize once inside that I will have to climb up and down ladders to see it. I go really slow. I know, I am an idiot. But I wanted to see it. I really tried to be a trooper through the whole thing even though I felt so awful.

Everyone was looking out for me too, so that was nice. I am very grateful to everyone for that. Anyway, here one of the guys did fall down the a ladder and land on his back.

He was okay though, I think. He said he was when I asked him a couple of times.

After viewing the windmills we get back on the coach for Brugge. Back into Belgium. I watch the countryside pass, turning into the familiar landscape that I saw just a short time ago.

Again it speaks to me, much more than I thought that it would. It just made me realize all the more that it was Belgium that would have my heart on this trip.

I am wondering what Brugge will be like, as I have heard it described as the Venice of the North.

I love it! The cobble stone streets, the architecture of the buildings, the little shops, the chocolate shops. Yes, I will be quite happy here.

We get into the Novotel Brugge Centrum. There is a message on the board for me. My husband has called and he gave the message that I should take Ceftin, the dosage, and amount of pills, and all that. I should be getting a fax. By now, it is 5pm, and I ask the gentleman at the desk what time the pharmacies close. He thinks probably 6pm. I ask him to ring me as soon as he gets the fax. He says he will, but tells me to go to a pharmacy anyway and talk to them. I tell him that I would not get anywhere without a perscription. He urges me to go try and smiles. I ask where there is one. He tells me to go out and they have green awnings.

I go up and wash up, and settle my things. No phone call. So I get brave and figure I will go out by myself and try to find a pharmacy. Oh, and at this point, not only am I dizzy, have an awful pain in my ear, and it is killing mee to swallow, but now I am getting stuffy.

I go out of the hotel courtyard and hang a right. I meet up with some from our group, and see a green awning, and tell them I am going in to see the pharmacist. There is a younger girl, I ask in French when is it that they will close.

A gentleman steps out and speaks English, tells me he is the pharmacist and I am lucky because he is there and they are open until 10. Good.

I tell him that I am waiting on a fax, and that my doctor says I should take Ceftin or Cephlex, and the dosage. There is only one problem. That is the brand name. Not the actual chemical name.

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I will have to try to call and get that somehow. He says to hold on and goes and gets a lap top, he Googles Ceftin , and comes up with the French equivalent. Zinnat. Amen!

I tell him that I will go and walk back to the hotel, and check if the persciption has been faxed. He tells me not to. It is okay. I am amazed, and ask if he is sure. He says yes, he is, he believes me, I am obviously unwell. I did look like death. I thank him repeatedly. I cannot wait to eat dinner so I can take this medication.

I walk around Brugge for a while. Meeting up with different people from our tour along the way. I ate an ice cream cone from heaven. It was cappucino flavor. I could not decide whether I wanted that or the freshly cooked waffle I was watching them take out. It was a hard decision.

We walked into and past the Market Square. It was a nice evening and I was glad that I ventured out. I had to stop and rest a couple of times, and we just made it back to the hotel for dinner just in time.

I made myself go to bed after dinner, a bunch were going out, and I was tempted. I came to my senses and figured I should rest and lay down.

Oh dsm, what a charming trip report, but your feeling so ill and in pain is terrible. I cringed for you while reading how awful you felt. I do hope that the medication helped..I look forward to the next installment of your trip. You write such an interesting report..I wish I could! Best regards.

ttt

Hi LoveItaly. Thank you for the kind words. It was rather awful. Not the sickest I have ever been, but it was getting there.

Today was my first day back to work after 15 days. I had a 13 hour day, so I am glad that the medication worked and I am almost back to normal.



Saturday July 1st.

I get up in the morning, and I guess expecting some kind of miracle after taking the antibiotic. I still feel like crud. I know that it doesn't work that fast, but I was hopeful.

I grab one to pop after eating breakfast. As I walk downstairs I start to remember that this is my last day in Brugge. I am sad. Plus that means that my trip is almost to an end.
I don't want to go home yet.

Sure, I miss my dog, and my husband, but I don't want to go home yet. I think to myself that there must be some way that I can win lotto, so that I can travel like this every month.

We are going for a guided walking tour with our guide "M". He is really soft spoken, and I could barely hear him sans earache, never mind now. He is charming, knowledgable, and extremely soft spoken though. I try to pay attention, but I end up wandering off and focusing on aomething else, instead of really listening hard to him.

I know it's rude, and I am missing out on really understanding what I am looking at, but what can I say. I am an MTV generation TV adult. I cannot seem to focus unless it's loud and fast, and even that not for very long.

I swear I am going to pay attention, I want to know more about Brugge, because I love it so. The guided walking tour with him will be in two parts. I am hoping to keep up with the first part. I am probably not doing the second because 1. I am still dizzy, and 2. I have heard that there will be a choir singing in a church and I want to see that.

Just as we are all piling out of the hotel, we get the bright idea that we should take a group photo, so two women see us, and say that they will take our picture. So she lines up all these cameras, and we are laughing and joking, and taking one shot after another. They were a lot of fun and very nice. So we took their picture. Afterwards, Mr T sang for the ladies and charmed them up. It was very cute.

So we walk through Brugge and take the same exact route that I took the night before. I don't mind one bit. I am listening to him tell me what I am looking at. I pay pretty good attention this time. I make it to the lace shop, here we will get a demonstration.

For those of you who have never seen this hand made lace done, well, all I can say is that it is really impressive.

While she is doing the demo she is talking to us and she was "only" (her word, not mine) working with 42 bobbins. She showed us one piece that was made with over 500 bobbins.

She explained that real Belgium lace will not have embroidery, and look for a certificate with it, and so on. It was very educational.

I thought so much of it was so beautiful. I bought a violin for my friend, a cross, and a piece that says Brugge.

She asks us to sing for her. Which we did. She says that she has enjoyed us, which I thought was sweet. We enjoyed watching and learning from her.

After that some people continue on the walking tour with "M". some want to go and climb the bell tower. I wanted to, but I knew I would never make it with the way that I felt.

So we just decide to walk and nibble and talk to people. I want to buy a gorgeous pashmina, but friend "S" stops me by reminding me of the ring purchase. Oh, yeah, that. Fine. But it is so soft! I put my lip out. She reminds me that I probably have 20 scarves. The lip is still out but I move on.

The choir that we see in the church at 3pm was really good. I am glad that we went. I am not sure of the name of the church, and I do not see it on my map. It is just up from our hotel on Katelijnestraat. It was just to the right. The choir does a lot of pretty songs, and even the Clare Benediction which is sort of tradmark of our chorale and our director, so that was neat. They were very good, and I was so glad that I went. The church was lovely too.

I stay out until almost midnight. I don't want to leave Brugge. Mass and a concert in the morning. Travel to Veldegem for concert and then onto Brussels.

We get to St Cornealius in time to run through our order, warm up, and try a song or two. We are using a key board that they have provided.

Mass starts and we start our first song, and the key board dies. That causes a bit of stir. People running around, actually the priest is trying to fix it. It runs and then dies again.

They tell us to use the pipe organ. Okay, this should be interesting. We need to slow it down a lot to use the organ.

We do the best we can, and get through it. That is all you can do. We take some pictures, and go to change clothes, and they have some refreshments waiting.

Onto Brussels we go. I cannot believe that this is the last night. Me and Mr T have talked a lot, and I tell him I will miss him. I have found a new friend, that is cool.

We stop at the Automium for a little kodak moment. We drive past the palace and stuff. Our driver takes us through the city in one last look, the way he did whenever we went some where new. And guide "M" points thing out to us, and tells us little stories.

He gives us a little thank you and goodbye speech in response to a gift and card that we have given him, and our driver. His speech makes me ball. I still don't want to go home.

For the last couple of days on the coach, we have been busting into spontaneous song. One will start and we all join in. I really don't want to go home.

We get into the hotel and then walk to the center of Brussels with "M". They are tearing down from something that must have taken place there and it is sort of ruining the view of the square. We are not allowed to walk in some parts, but we take pictures anyway and listen to "M" speak of the buildings. The architecture was just so cool. We walk out to go see Mannekin Pis. Gotta do it, right?

We walk down the Rue de Buchers, and I want paella, right now, thank you very much. I try to no avail to get someone to split one with me. I do however eat a huge pot full of mussles. I am a happy camper!

We walk through the Gallery of stores, and eat chocolate, have ice cream and do shopping.

We listen to street music, sing, dance, and enjoy our last evening together.

I finally retire and think about my 4am wake up call to get to the airport in time.

But guess what? The wake up calls, we never get them.

Oh, a cliffhanger! I love it!
Great report!