Before getting on the train to Holland, Caroline and I went in search of Belgian waffles back in Namur. I’m going to be rolling my ass home anyway so might as well make it really worthwhile.

Since it was on the way back to the hostel in Namur, where she had a reservation for the night, Caroline gave me a ride to my accommodation in Yvoir, my “Y” place. The hotel is right next to the train station and sits across from Yvoir Island. It’s like a version of Fawlty Towers, minus all the staff except Cybil, and even she’s now about 90 years old and cannot accompany guests up to their rooms upon arrival. Neither does she speak English. Just points and babbles.

A very bizarre experience. Extremely high ceilings, creaky floorboards, flowered wallpaper on the walls and doors, and Scottish tartan curtains. The king-sized bed was two single beds pushed together. The only other guests in the establishment were three men all sharing one room.

I didn’t fancy sitting by myself all evening so Caroline and I went for drinks (and another game of Scrabble–English, this time), and then I snuck her into my huge room with mis-match oversized furniture for a slumber party. Getting her out the next morning was a little tricky but since the landlady was too old to run after us and we weren’t able to understand what she was saying, it wasn’t too difficult to get away with it.

The weather has been so bad the last couple of days, it makes everything look depressed.  The huge houses that sit along the river and nestle up in the surrounding trees surrounding are like something from the Amityville Horror movie.
 

   

At the end of my first day in Namur, I was tired, fed up and looking forward to a good, long night’s sleep. Only a few days left now until I’d be back on English soil. Hooruh!

“Would you like a glass of wine?” the 29 year old blonde asked. “I have a bottle in my car. I’ll have a cigarette, too, but I don’t suppose you smoke, do you?”

Oh, sweetie, you’re talking to the wrong person right now. I would love to join you in both activities.

We sat on the hostel balcony, overlooking the River Meuse and gradually made our way through Caroline’s bottle of wine. When that was done, we moved downstairs to the bar for more wine and a game of Scrabble. We hadn’t been playing for long when we realized it was French Scrabble. Not to be defeated, we continued with our attempts to lay down English words, but by eleven we were both tired and quite drunk so called it a night.

The plan for the next day was to be active. Caroline and I would go to the adventure park in Dinant, 30 km south of Namur. We’d climb rocks, swing on a pulley, and cross rope bridges.

“We only do something when we have a group of 15 or more people,” the girl at the center said. “If there’d been something set up, we could have added you, but we don’t have anything.”

Our plans were thwarted. Just as well because shortly afterwards the skies opened. We drove into Dinant center and found a cafe overlooking the river. It was around 1100 hours when we got there and two coffees, lunch, wine, and three hours later by the time we left. A break in the clouds gave us just enough time to visit the Citadel in Dinant.
DON’T BOTHER!

   

We paid 6,50 Euros and caught the cable car up to the top of the hill. There are also 480 steps, if you feel like some exercise. It’s a complete wrip-off. There’s nothing really to see and the tour guide who takes you around does not give an English translation. With all the money they’re raking in from tourists, the least they could do would be to upgrade their exhibits and give the dummies decent wigs. Even Caroline, who did get a Dutch translation thought it was a big load of pants.

Thank goodness there’s someone else out there with legs like mine. Actually, I think she’s in much better shape then me;)

To pass the time on a cold, gray and wet day in Namur, yesterday I toured the Citadel. Also visited the perfumery that’s up on the hill. If you like stuff that smells like a mixture of bad, cheap body spray and fake perfume, this is the place for you. I walked out feeling quite nauseous. I’ll spend the night tonight in Yvoir, my “Y” place.

I got as far as Namur in Belgium last night. Still stinky from the camp fire, the first thing I did at the hostel (Auberges de Jeunesse Hostel) was hand over a bag of laundry and take a long hot shower. Off to investigate today and will head to Yvoir tomorrow. Also booked my return ticket on Eurostar from Brussels for August 28, the day my ticket expires. The finish line is in place. Now I just have to get there….