As I sit here filling in time, waiting as one does between
drinks and food while flying, and feeling partly in anticipation, bored with
the current status quo, and definitely tired, I thought I’d start this blog or
whatever it will turn out to be. So….
Last minute packing at home and the trip to the airport and
check in was uneventual. Had a few minutes chatting to Mum in the car to say a final
good bye and one which I knew she would have expected, and as it turned out, it
was! I was blithely told, “Yes… I thought you’d phone me this morning!”.
Yesterday we had spent 3 or 4 hours at home ensuring no bags
weighed more than 23kgs or 7 kgs depending upon what part of the plan they were
going on and of course having to repack items from one to another to meet these
targets. Had some difficulty in resolving the weight per bag conundrum until
fortunately Kerrie agreed to take a
small back pack which solved the issue, as every bag was less than 1Kilo under
the maximum limit. Quite a feat to pack for 4 months away in only 2 large and 1
small suitcase and a couple of backpacks as carry on luggage. I suspect there
may well be some shopping in store for us upon arrival!!
QANTAS is QANTAS, but they have changed their chef and the
new one knows how to cook! Either that or they have got sick of the complaints
and we got lucky with our date of flying when they were trying to impress.
Either way, we were. Suitably I might add.
Finnair, which we caught at Singapore, was OK. We flew in an
A340 with Finnair and a A330 with QANTAS. Very similar aircraft, but the A330
was more modern. Something to do with Finnair leasing aircraft and not yet
ready for the upgrade apparently.
Once again sitting in lounges in airports for 4 or 5 hours
is not something anyone looks forward to. But we did find a lounge in Singapore
which catered for our Airline (FinnAIr). It’s a basic lounge, lots of seats,
the universally offered FREE WiFi, and the same kind of food you’d expect
anywhere in Asia. Bowls of noodles, soups and spring rolls with savouries
disguised as sweets. No Bourbon to my disgust, so settled for Barcadi as
Dimples, Vodka and Gin are not really thing. Must admit I was tempted by the
look of a bottle of red wine, but wanted to stay sober!!
When we had landed from the Brisbane – Singapore leg, we had
checked with an airport staff member, a Chinese lady around 30 yrs of age and
armed with a tablet full of every piece of information you need to know about
Changi Airport. After an initial bit of confusion, she got the right idea,
consulted with the tablet which confirmed our flight, gate and time of
departure which also agreed with our tickets. Kerrie and I looked at each
other, smiled and I said “Well, things looking good so far!”
Not long after, the
people at the lounge desk, told us something different. Same gate, same flight
but leaving an hour earlier than our boarding passes and the tablet belonging
to the Chinese girl said. The Departures screens told us something else, which
was precisely nothing, as it was far too early to let people like us know that
far in advance. I suggested to Kerrie we wait and then Kerrie said “Not too
long as the close the gates 30 mins before take off! Have a look at that sign”.
Sure enough she was right which meant that the people at the
lounge check in had no idea about anything much at all. They had suggested we
walk down from the lounge with 10 mins to go! We were not going to risk that.
In the end, we left the lounge 45 mins before take off, and
arrived at the check in and scanning process again, Kerrie took off belt, shoes
and jewellery for the second time that day, and we waltzed through to spend
another 10 mins putting it all back on again and loading ones pockets with the
various pieces of paraphnalia one carts around when travelling.
The flights were usual flights, the waitress or waiter (we
had an all male Aussie crew on the Bne/ SNG leg and a Singaporean crew on the
FinnAir leg – work that out! No Heidis at all), anyway whoever it was, made all
the usual announcements about safety, hiding bags under the seat, what to do in
the event of a landing at places other than an airport and to take careful note
of the exit signs and where we were seated in relation to them. Don’t forget about
the lighted strips on the floor which will help find our way through the dust
and scattered bits of plane, people and luggage in the event of a crash. Air
crew are an extraordinarily optomistic lot aren’t they! But hey …. better to look on the bright side I guess.
Could have done without seeing the Muslim prayer room at the
airport though. Praying before flying is not optomistic in my opinion. Either
that or they know something the rest of us on that flight don’t!
Currently travelling at 46,000 ft over Afghanistan and I
just hope that is high enough to avoid ground to air hand held missiles! If you see another of these posts, you’ll
know it was and I’m probably going to look for the Prayer Room at the next
airport. Even if just to say “Thankyou” to whoever is in charge of such things.
The map on the small TV screen in front of me says we are
going to go over something called Sankt Peterburg, Volchov, Kohtla-Jarva Naarva
and Lappeenranta which looks very Finnish to me due to repetitive use of the
same letters in most of their words which for some reason doesn’t make them
sound like they are stuttering when they talk.
Nevermind, not far to go now. Local time is just after
5.00am, had breakfast and we land at 6.30 am and catch the next plane at 8.00
am, arriving in Frankfurt at 9.40 am local time. I did a really stupid thing
and calculated how long between the time I got up on Tuesday morning at home
(3.30am) and when I would next sleep in a bed which is approximately 9.00pm
Wednesday night local time. It’s about 38 hours all up until we land at
Frankfurt. Then doing the Customs thing, get the Garmin thing, get the van
thing, and the driving to Aachen thing is another 12 hours. So, about 50 hours
all up. Mmmmm … not a lot say really!
We’re sitting in Business Class on a Finnair A319 Airbus
flying from Helsinki to Frankfurt. Had an interesting time for a few minutes in
the airport as after leaving the Singapore/Helsinki aircraft, and remaining in
Transit, we had all our carry on luggage screened before being let loose in the
Transit Area!
Kerrie was suitably impressed with doing the shoes, belt,
jewellery thing for the third time in one day and I’m wondering if she’ll have
to do it in Frankfurt when we arrive there! Four times in one day would be a
superlative effort! Let alone the discussion comments about it each time!
When we got to the other end of the Transit Lounge we were
still Air side but had to go through Customs again. Kerrie goes first and the
Customs Officer who looked like he was over the moon about having to work at that
hour of the day and his best mate in the cubicle beside him kept jumping up and
down every minute to look at the growing crowd of people queuing to see them.
The worried look on his face as well as his instructions to those with European
Passports to go to that line over there made everyone feel welcome and relaxed!
Needless to say, Kerrie goes before me and I hang back behind
the Blue line as the printed instructions on the floor tell me and watch Kerrie
and the happy chappy get acquainted. He starts asking questions about how long
we are in Europe and when are leaving. She tried to clarify and didn’t know the
answers as I had done all the flight and travel arrangements.
She looks around at me for help and says to the happy chappy
that my husband can help and I go to step forward. Which was greeted with a
loud, “Stay behind the line!”. So, no such thing as a quiet civilised conversation
between friends then!
He again asks her “When are you going home?” Kerrie turns
around to me for the answer and then says in August to the guy. Of course this
causes some distress to him as this answer says we are in Europe longer than
the allowed 90 days and that’s an unacceptable option and will probably mean
more paperwork for him which didn’t appear to make him happier. His best mate
was now jumping up and down and looking at me as well his queue, which had me
thinking a bit! I wondered what queue he’d tell me to join if I didn’t shut up!
I didn’t really want to find out.
Anyway, I called out to the happy chappy and asked him “leaving
for where? Home or leaving Europe?” He
initially told me to be quiet which I ignored and proceeded to call him “Sir”
and suchlike which in turn mollified him somewhat and he allowed me to explain
that while we were going home in August, we were actually leaving Europe on
July 19th well within the 90 day period.
He got all happy again, releaved that he wasn’t going to
have the extra paperwork, stamped Kerrie’s Passport and waived her through. I
asked if I could cross the line with the instructions not to written on it, and
was allowed to this time. He got all surprised I had a NZ Passport and Kerrie
had an Australian one. Starting to say something , but then stopped. Must have
been reverting to his normal taciturn happy self. But, to give him his credit,
he did thank me for clarifying and wished us a happy holiday. To which I
responded, “ Thankyou Sir! Been planning this for 40 years and I certainly plan
to do my best!” Which was apparently far too much information. Either that or
my chatter was running the risk of him enjoying himself for a minute, because
he just waived me away while calling “next!”
Still haven’t worked out what they take for happy pills in
Finnland!
Tuesday 19th April.
Landed at Frankfurt and had no Customs to go through. Funny,
because I thought we would have being the first port of call in Europe.
However, it turned out it wasn’t the first one after all! I had no idea Finland
was in Europe. Just as well because the Happy Chappy’s best mate may have been
working in Customs in Frankfurt and one of that family in a day is enough for
anyone!
Got outside amidst a huge number of people from all over the
world it seemed and went to look for a bus. Quickly changed my mind when I
realised that there was no way we were going to be able to find the one we
needed. So paid up for a taxi. Turned out the driver had spent some time in
Sydney on a holiday and thought it was a lovely place. Apparently he did not
meet any Melbournians while there.
We drove for what seemed forever, but in reality was only 45
mins on the motorway and then ground to a halt due to an accident some 8 kms
ahead. So off the motorway and took the long way around. Not worry, we had the
time and fortunately the extra money to go with it. 120 Euros later we arrived
just before midday at McRent where we were to pick up the Campervan. The nice
German man at recpetion promptly informed us that pickup was only after 2.00pm.
I must have looked suitably crestfallen because his boss walked over and they
rabbited on together in German and then told me in broken English that the van
was ready and they would make an exception for us. Wow! So we proceeded to hand
over Australian Driver’s Licences, International Driver’s Licenses, Insurance
details, Booking Form and everything else he asked for. But when he got to my
Credit Card, I couldn’t find it. Looked everywhere then realised I must have
left it at home. Fortunately Kerrie came ot the rescue with hers, but the forms
had to be in the same name as the Credit Card so the paperwork needed redoing!
Being an efficient man, he suggested we watched the “How to
use the Van” DVD while he fixed things up. Naturally we agreed as the
efficiency caught on. We discovered on the DVD that there are a variety of
vans which have different features and different ways to use the same features.
But being efficient they had made one DVD with all the features for all the
models of vans on it. But had forgoten to tell us what the model van it was
that we were getting!
The efficiency stuff worked though and when we got to the
van we managed with the man’s help to figure out most of it. Then it was check
and write down all the scratches, dints and bangs that we would apparently not
get charged for. Efficency apparently doesn’t extend to repairs. Particularly
as he informed me that they only lease the vans for 12 months before selling
them. All care and clients have all the financial responsibility! Good business
if you can get it …
Once we loaded and had signed assorted documents and stowed
our copies, we were off.
The interesting thing is that, while I had mentally prepared
for driving on the wrong side of the road, it was the width of the van that
caused the greatest worry. Even though the van is 2.0M wide, I was totally
unaware that I was driving within 200mm or less from parked cars, lamposts and
everything else until Kerrie informed me in a tight, scared voice that I was a fair from the middle of the road. I looked and
thought “Mmmm … she’s got a point here” and went to move the van closer to the
middle of the road only to discover the dotted white centre lines began to
disappear under the front of the bus and only reappear in the side mirrors
after the van had passed them. This means that my left hand wheels were on the
wrong side of the road! Not much to do about that and I worked on the theory
that I had two options, listen to Kerrie keep a running commentary in various
ways such as gasping about just missing things or play bluff with the oncoming
traffic. As were 6.5 metres long and 2m wide and had a large front I chose the
bluff department. It worked, oncoming traffic obligingly moved over. Sorted
that out!
The next 3 hours consisted of the same thing over and over
again. Only most of it was at 110kms per hour with other vehicles overtaking me
on the left at about 130kms. Trying to get into that lane to pass trucks going
at 90 or 100kms is interesting to say the least!
Suffice to say, after a large learning curve over the next 3
hours, we arrived in Aachen at the correct address celebrated by huge sighs of
relief. There had been road works along some of the way where we needed to turn
off and the GPS had us traveling through paddocks on its display. After a
couple of circles and Simon the melodious English upper class voice on the GPS,
repetitively saying “RECALCULATING! RECALCULATING!” in a very patient manner,
we ended up a different motorway than we were supposed to be on and going in
the wrong direction. Despite all this, Simon did his job and detoured us via a
couple of more motorways and side streets until we got it right! Well done
Simon!
We found the local drivers to be very good. Obviously used
to foreigners who are not to used to good drivers. All the motorway entrances
and exits have long “runways” which allow vehicles to either get up to speed as
opposed to joining the main stream doing 40kph less and everyone havng to slow
down waiting for them to speed up or turning off the motorway and having to
slam on the brakes to get down to the local 50kph in built up areas. German
efficiency is applied to everything!
Having parked in a side street down the road from the people
we were going to meet, we walked to their house and were greeted by a pleasant
lady who, in broken English said she was expecting us. Which was good seeing as
we were both a bit stuffed and really didn’t feel much like driving anymore. It
had been 50 hours since I had climbed out of bed to catch the plane and despite
the bed in Business Class on the plane, hadn’t slept much at all. The eyes were
sore and aching and even walking to begin with was an effort. So it was really
good to find a lovely welcome and being handed a cup of coffee and told to make
ourselves at home for a night or two.
We had met this lady’s son back in Australia when he was on
a working holiday and I had kept in touch and arranged to meet his parents to
discuss our plans and see if they could improve on them. What a delightful
couple they turned out to be and we all spent two evenings together drinking
German wine efficiently made and discussing our plans, how to get around Aachen to
buy the things we needed in the van like food and other necessities, and
generally getting to know one another. Turns out they had owned a campervan
similar to our hire one and over the years had travelled all over Europe on
holiday and had a book printed each time full of their photos and comments on
their travels. They’d titled their books by the year and country they holidayed
in and I thought what a great way to keep records. Apparently there is an App
one can use to setup and edit the book contents and it costs them just on A$50
to have it printed. Must get that App I think.
The next day we spent shopping and stocking up the van. Got
nearly everything we needed except of course, a cork screw for the wine! Having
got so used to scew caps in Australia, just didn’t think of it of course. And
many local wine bottles still come with corks in them! Discovered this on our
first night Camping and had to go and ask the next door neighbour. She didn’t
speak any English and my French is rudimentary at best and no German except
“Heidi” and that wasn’t going to cut it! Suffice to say, by holding up the
bottle and miming, she quickly caught on and came to our rescue. Needless to
say, a cork scew was on the next shopping list before I got back to the van!
Why am I not surprised!!
After shopping at Aldi (where else would one shop when in
Germany!), we caught a bus into Aachen city centre. Bought some more things
from a discount retailer for the van. Kerrie got waylaid by a gay guy selling
some kind of organic makeup or skin repair stuff. I lost interest in about 30
seconds when he started waffling and waving his hands about and went for a walk
to look for a WiFi stick. Needed one of these for data access. Visited all the
various companies, O2, Saturn, Vodaphone and had fun speaking English to
Germans asking for a Pre-paid Data only USB stick. None to be had. Anywhere.
They don’t sell them. At all. For Europe.
The deal is, have to buy one for each country we visit or
sign up to a 2 yr Plan and pay extra to avoid roaming charges. How does that
work? Well, roaming charges are horrific. Same as in Australia, so they
discount them if you go on a 2yr Plan which still costs a fortune. So, I
decided to go without and only buy one if the Camp sites don’t have WiFi I can
buy or we realise we will not be near any Starbucks or McDonalds.
I wandered back to see Kerrie an hour and a half later, only
to see the gay guy was still waffling about stem cells (organic ones at that),
in some cream he had which would take 10 years off her looks in about 2 years
of using this stuff. Seemed a lot like the Mobile 2 yr Plan. Costs a fortune
and no guarantees! So I went for another walk, saw a bunch more shops, and hid
in one for a whle pretending to be interested in German language books. I will
say this for the German language. They have lots of long words. Apparently
whoever invented German decided it would be much better to use one word instead
of six to say the same thing. Hence I suspect they break all world records for
having the most letters in the most number of words in any language.
Eventually Kerrie decided she should buy some of this stuff
and after handing over the Credit Card we left with a couple of small tubes of
organic stem cells mixed into a cream that was going to recreate her
looks. We also knew that this guy had a
shop in Dusseldorph, some in France, lots of staff, used to work for Dior and a
whole bunch of other information that was of no use to us, but apparently he
felt was impressive. Instead of ohhing and ahhing which would have made him
waffle on some more, we left before he started on his friends.
Spent a couple of hours wandering around the Old Town
portion looking at buildings that had been authorised by Charlemagne in the 12
th or 13th Century and were being repaired again in the 21st.
Old stone, covered in centuries of grime were being scrapped and lightly
chisselled making the stone look like it was fresh and new. Statues of Saints
and famous people covering the steeples and fronts of the buildings looked down
on the passersby the same way they had been doing for hundreds of years. I
wondered who they all had been. So many of them. Normally one might expect to
see maybe 2 or 3 but here were dozens! What had they done to get their likeness
carved in stone and what stories they could tell. Mostly religious figures or
community leaders was my guess. Some were variations of the same famous person.
We kept wandering around and I noticed that the cobblestone
streets were not very long or wide and were seldom straight. They curved and
wound their way directing walkers past ancient buildings which had shops on the
ground floor and accommodation above. Every couple of hundred meters they
opened up onto another square in which sat people outside coffee and pastry
shops drinking, talking and doing what people do the world over, gaze at other
people doing the same thing. Everyone rugged up against the cold, even though
the sky was a brilliant blue and the sun shone, it was cold in the shadows and
the air was around a cold 8C. We were thankful to be wearing our thick woollen
coats on top of jumpers and shirts!
Around 3.30pm we decided to catch the bus home. We still had
to pack away the shopping and finalise the van for the rest of the trip and we
knew it was going to be a ¾ hr trip home. I pulled out the instructions we had
received from our friend and made our way to outside the Bank where the bus
stop was located.
It wasn’t, but we found it about 300m away outside the Old
Town Hall. Waited for the bus which apparently could be numbered “anything
ending in a 5” and ask for Ringstrasse. Nothing difficult in that on would
assume. About ½ an hour later we jumped on board No 35 and asked for
Ringstrasse only to receive blank look and a stream of German. I thought I’d
pronounced it wrong and went to put the correct change down and turned to
Kerrie to get the written instructions to show this guy. All the time he’s
growling away in German and I’m not catching any of it.
Just as Kerrie came up with the instructions, he suddenly
grabbed the money and gave us two tickets and motioned for us to move down the
aisle. As we moved down, I’m, thinking to myself, something is not quite right
here and I suspect he’s just got sick of trying to tell us something and taken
the money and left us to sort it out.
We grabbed a seat and pulled out the street map. I
recognised which direction we were supposed to be going and waited to see if we
headed there. But after about 5 stops and going the wrong way and not turning
around, I said to Kerrie, “I think this is the wrong bus!”.
The young man sitting in the next seat looked blank when I
asked him if he spoke English as did the girl opposite us. Then another bloke
turned around and asked us “where are you trying to go?”.
I looked up and smiled to hear a friendly voice in something
other than gutteral mumblings and explained our predicament. This guy was
great, he knew exactly what we should do apparently. This was defintely the
wrong bus. So we should get off and cross the road and catch a No 45. That
would defintely get us there!! We thanked him and got off and crossed the road
and I said to Kerrie, catching the bus here is wrong I think. Let’s look at the
map as I suspect we should be miles away.
Sure enough, we were on the opposite of the city centre! So,
we started walking. And walking and walking. Up cobblestone streets that play
havoc with one’s ankles and feet and my back and knees! After 4kms I had it
and needed to stop for a rest. Checked the map and realised we were about half
way there!
Two or three streets later we saw a bus driver having a
smoke outside his bus while waiting for his leaving time to roll around. So I
asked him if he spoke English which he did, and then showed him the map and
explained where we needed to go.
He confidentially said “Sure, I know! I know!” and
proceeded to tell us to walk around the corner cross the road, catch bus no 3a
for two stops. Then get out and catch bus no 31. Again I was suspicious, but
who would know whether this was right or not!
As the turning the corner the bit was right, we did that. We
had to walk that route anyway and crossed the road and walked on a few hundred
meters before we found a bus stop. I could see on the map that the street we
needed to be on was only about 1km
further ahead, and I didn’t know about any Bus No 3a and suggested that
we walk that 1km as well to be sure.
So Kerrie took off and I followed … slowly. Very slowly!
About 15 mins later we turned into the street we needed and walked a further
500m to the nearest bus stop. Waited for a bus with a number ending in 5
(except 35) which took about 17 mins and boarded only to be told Nein! Nein!
Apparently this bus didn’t go where we neeed either! We hopped off and waited
for another 6 mins for the next bus and tried again. Same result!
By this time it was just 5.30pm. Two hours since we had caught
the first bus and it was starting to get colder. Kerrie’s not happy!! Anyway,
the third bus took us where we needed.
We got asked what happened and why so late when we reached “home”
and explained that not all buses with numbers ending in 5 actually go the way
we needed. However, they do apparently but some go the long way around. If we
had stayed on the first bus long enough it would have taken us where we needed
to go. Just taken about an hour longer to get there! Ditto for the next couple
we tried. Helpful drivers wanted us to get “home” quicker, maybe.
The next morning we learnt how to give directions to our new
Garmin GPS. I had been told that the Van did not have a GPS but as it turned
out it did! That is where Simon came from. I wanted to compare our Garmin with
Simon and see who was the best etc so decided to use them both at the same time
and compare. By the end of the day, Simon had won!
The Garmin software I ordered is a truck version for Europe
and we had to input the size of the campervan so it knew not to direct us under
bridges too low or along roads too narrow for the van. Great idea. There is a
GPS put out by Tom Tom which has software called “Camping and Caravanning”
which by the sounds of it is great. But Tom Tom are listed amongst the highest
firms for “lack of non-helpful responses” in my all time list. And that is
saying something!! Besides, neither products are sold in Australia and I could
not raise Tom Tom Internationally and the Australian office wouldn’t supply the contact details
to me. Just kept sending me emails with specials and promises of discounts for
Aussie software! Despite me having explained I needed European maps. Dumb as!
Garmin is sold in Frankfurt by licensed or franchised
businesses. I got mine from Computer Universe who, unlike Tom Tom were very
helpful and even agreed to order this product in especially for me as they
normally do not carry it. No payment until I arrived to pick it up!
Once it was loaded we headed off for a drive of about 3
hours to get us through southern Belgium into Northern France about 200kms
north of Paris. There is a little town called Les Quesnoy which I wanted to
visit as it was freed by NZ Forces during WWI and there was a close kinship
between NZ and the village. It and a little town in the centre of the North
Island called Cambridge are sister cities.
During WWI, 400 Kiwis attacked 1500 Germans and saved around
1400 French lives because they did it in a way that avoided bombing and
mortering the village. 85 Kiwis are buried locally and every ANZAC day a
Ceremony is held and I wanted to attend. ANZAC Day being the day after we
arrived.
Les Quesnoy closed its Municiple Camping Ground recently so
we had to grab the next nearest about 20 mins away at a place near St Amand
called Camping St Amand des Bruyeres. Located on the edge of a forest which is
part of a National Reserve, it was neat and tidy and run by a lovely couple
with a couple of helpers. The ladies name was Aurore which is beast of a thing
for a native English speaker to pronounce so I just asked her if I could call
her Christine. She laughed and said “OK”!
The helpers seem to be married in other words they live on
the camp site in a permanent hutt and split duties as required. She mainly runs
the Episcerei ie the Bar and a place where one should be able to order food
except they don’t do food but are happy to sell some tins and wine etc from a
room off the Bar. Some licensing structure seems to be the problem. Not to
worry we had already decided on our food but were happy to spend around E4.50
per bottle for some really well made Red. Light of course. Nothing like a Big
Aussie Shiraz, but yummie all the same.
As well, we tried some Rose, smoked one of the guy’s cigars
when offered it, watched the other campers play pool and botchie and played
pool ourselves in between. Generally had a good time. The guy donated a cap
with the Camp name on the front of it and placed it on my head and said “Pour
vous!”. So he qualified for one of our Kiwi Keyrings. I had bought a number of
these from NZ thinking they’d be handy from time to time to use as a gift when
people had been especially “nice” to us. It caused a bit of a stir amongst the
other Frenchmen and before long I had to do a bit of the haka and when they said
“All Blacks c’est Number un!” I had to of course sing out “Allez le Blue!”
which all helped to relaxed things nicely.
For the next couple of hours they chatted away in French
and kerrie and I chatted away in English with much gesticulation and the
“petite” amount of French I know, but we all had fun and left good friends
when it closed at 8.00pm. That’s bedtime for everyone. Within 20 mins the whole
joint had shut down, lights all off and I assume everyone tucked up in bed.
Kerrie and I took a little longer due to the colder weather kicking
in and slowing us down somewhat. But we too eventually made it to bed. Me for
around 6 hours sleep – a record for me in France! Well actually, nearly a
record for me anywhere to tell the truth!
The next day we wandered around a village some 20kms odd
away - Les Quesnoy; driving down a few streets the wrong way and even managed
to get Simon muddled up. He got stuck on saying “Recalculating” over and over
again for about 10 mins till I turned him off. The problem was I had no street
and house number to enter into for Simon, just the town name and he was
determined to direct us to the village centre through these narrow windy roads
till we hit the town square. He got short shift after about 5 mins of that and
we drove in and around and back out again as of course, there was no where to
park. By a sheer fluke we found a space outside a “Supermarche” which we wanted
to go to anyway. Parked the van half on the footpath and half on the road,
locked up and went for a wander again only this time on our feet. Still got
looked at mind you, by the locals! But not as severely as when we were driving.
We found the Tourism Village and confirmed the commemoration
ceremonies for the next day. Times and places to assemble and we heard the NZ
High Commissioner was going to be there as well as local dignataries and so
forth. All good! Made our way back to the van and decided to finish off the
day with a visit to the Supermarche.
That was interesting! Between my limited French and the
staff’s limited English we got everything we needed in twice the time it would
normally take. But it was fun! Loaded with some baguettes and cheese and more
red wine (Bordeaux this time) at E4.30/bttle and something for dinner, we
sorted it all out and stowed it in the van before heading off to the Camp Site.
That was the first time I had walked around a village like
this and I found the architecture interesting. So different to anything we have
in NZ or Australia. Some great ideas as well with types of doors and use of
shutters and so on.
I also noticed that about 50% of the shops were closed and
there weren’t that many people about. Sure it was the middle of the day, but
you’d expect some life! Instead, many shops were shut. The police station was
closed. Not a professional office open and the Church in the village centre
closed. Along with about 60% of the Cafes. Then I remembered, it was Monday; and
opening on Mondays is not a good thing apparently. But they all seemed happy
enough and quite prepared to see the solicitor and coppers on Tuesdays if
necessary!
Les Quesnoy is a rebuilt town with little of it’s original
buildings left. Founded in the 12th Century and with a large moat
and walls built around it; high gates and ramparts etc it suffered mightily
during WWII. Late in 1945, 400 NZ armed forces attacked through smog and smoke
created by burning oil drums, 2 of them climbed the walls and hoisted up
ladders and the 1500 odd Germans were surprised. 290 NZ troops were wounded in
the attack and 85 killed. However, the town was taken in one day of fighting.
The odd attack method was made due to the relunctance of
the Kiwis to use mortar and shelling as the town still housed a lot of French
inhabitants who would have been killed had the attack been carried out
differently. This gesture by the Kiwis won the hearts of the local inhabitants
who have held an annual ceremony to remember how their town was saved.
Today, an ANZAC ceremony is held on ANZAC day with a Dawn
Service, a march past the memorial in the centre of the village and a formal
function attended by local dignataries, NZ Consular General, some NZ Forces and
civilians. Mostly decendents of those Kiwis who were killed here. High up on
the ramparts leading into the town, is a War Grave with many sites holding the
remains of men from the Maori Battalion and NZ Engineers Divisions along with
those of other nationalities. Les Quesnoy is also a sister city with the town
of Cambridge in the North Island of NZ.
We were there the day before ANZAC Day and the town was a
picture with NZ and French flags along all the streets, flower boxes brimming
with colourful flowers and we were treated respectfully by those who asked
where we were from and hearing of the Australian and New Zealand connection. I
was also pleased to hear that children and youngsters are encouraged to
participate so the commeration does not die out and is carried to the next
generation. Much like the RSL’s have done in Australia.
We planned to attend the march past at 11.00am the next day
and eventually left with it just starting to rain. Back to our Campsite.
Got up early the next morning to get cleaned up, pack the
van and leave for the march past. Problem was the van developed a warning sign
on the dash which looked like the computer was playing up or had recorded
something else that had played up. I was relunctant to drive it and after an
hour or so, got hold of the Fiat Service Dept. That’s when we became aware of
the second problem, I had been transfered to the wrong department. Call centres
eh!!
So, another phone call and this time success! Only to be
told, “this is the Dutch division and as you hired the van in Germany you need
to speak to the German people”!! So was transferred again and eventually got
hold of someone who could speak some English. My limited French was of no
value!
Turns out we had to wait until the next day and then drive
it carefully to the nearest Fiat Service Agency in a place called Valenciennes
located about 25kms away. They wouldn’t come to us. After an email confirming
the address and a contact who would know of our plight, we settled down in the
bar to enjoy the rest of our day. A couple of bottles of red, a few games of
pool and watching the botchie game again helped get rid of the frustration over
a lost day and missing the ANZAC ceremony. They are good people and it all
became a bit of fun. Eventually!
The next morning, we started the van and of course, no
warning light appeared! However, we carefully drove to Valenciennes and
reported to the correct Fiat Agency manager who said “Is the warning light
still on?” I couldn’t answer him without more French at my disposable as it
required a detailed explanation not a simple “Oui” or “Non”. So, Microsoft
Translation became useful for a while until we got it all sorted and the decision
was that he was happy for us to drive it while it had no light. So, back in the
van and off we go.
Travelled through Drouai. Stopped and got some pictures for my
French teacher in Brisbane of her home town. Had a bite to eat at a café –
panini bread with filling and half a custard slice each washed down with coffee
and water in Kerrie’s case. Still bloody cold outside!
While wandering around we stopped and asked for some
directions from a man who it turns out has a niece living and working in Auckland
NZ. He was even wearing his All Blacks T-Shirt. Fancy that, travelling half way
around the world to get excited about a bloke wearing an AB’s T-shirt!! Anyway,
I praised Les Blues and he stated that the AB’s were No 1 and Les Blues No 2 in
the world and I didn’t have the heart to correct his second pick!
The pub we stopped at, had a meeting going on so was closed
to everyone else during lunchtime. Quite amazing! Probably a staff meeting! Who
knows!
For the rest of that afternoon, we drove carefully through narrow,
clogged streets of various towns and villages according to Simon’s directions
and eventually through Messen and onto Leper. Known as Ypres by the English.
Mainly because the Belgians decided as the English can’t say Leper properly,
they would change the spelling! How decent of them!
Leper is a bigger town with couple of Cathedrals and a
couple of other buildings from hundreds of years ago. It is situated roughly in
the centre of the WWI front line during the period 1914 to 1917. There are
outlying villages which required a decision by locals and government to rebuild
at the end of the war, but Leper was only half destroyed. The town houses a
Museum dedicated to the Allied Forces during WWI and it was interesting to say
the least. Although nothing like the one at Zonnebeke.
Here, there are guns, bayonets, mortars and other shells on
display. Uniforms worn by enlisted men and officers alike, a machine gun, a
recreation of a dugout, the usual medals, letters and hundreds of pieces of
assorted pharaphenalia. Guides may be hired or one can listen to a running
commentary on tape in each room one visits. Written stuff about each display
and item is available in Dutch, France and English so it wasn’t difficult to make
it all interesting. About 6 groups of people arrived by buses and were grabbed
by a guard each and taken around the Museum with much talking in a bundle of
different languages going on all vieing for the right to be heard. We just
stuck to ourselves and kept wandering.
From there we went about 12kms up the road to another town to
try and find Tyne Cot Cemetery. We missed it the first time and after enquiries
turned around and drove back though a couple small villages before finding the
turnoff.
This Cemetery is the largest War Cemetery in Europe. It
holds just on 12,000 Allied troops and 4 Germans. Of the 12,000, 8,500 are unknown.
Each of their headstones is marked by the words, “Known Unto God”. No name, no
country … nothing. This is the cemetery
I think that was used in the movie “The Saving of Private Ryan”. Looks kind of
similar.
There are rows and rows and rows and rows of headstones.
Sandstone headstones - all the same. The whole plot is surrounded on three
sides by a stone wall and the fourth is a memorial with 35,000 names engraved
on them. These names are there simply because there was no room left for them
to be engraved along with the others in Leper. They are also there because none
of their remains were ever found. All missing …
Scattered amongst the headstones was the occasional balsa
wood cross with something hand written from a relative, descendent or friend maybe,
and very personal. The large memorial was covered by wreaths from the ANZAC Dawn
service the previous day and there were poppies everywhere. In the wreaths, in
the ground, amongst the headstones. Everywhere!
The whole experience I found totally overwhelming and I
found myself shedding a few tears along with Kerrie. It is a most humbling
place but fortunately I think it eminates a feel of peace. Thank God! No wonder
they called it the War to end all Wars!
After an hour or so, we walked back to the van and moved on.
On the way, we drove past more Cemeteries or just a memorial standing alone in a
field. They are everywhere and one could easily spend a week here taking in the
remnants of the events here. The battles, the scraps, the heroism, the
unimaginable suffering and hardships, the stories by old men captured on film
in museums and of course, the sites themselves. I’m glad I came.
Metal model of Aachen Cathedral
Park in Aachen town centre
Street Muso's in Aachen.
Street scene Aachen
Street scene Aachen
Camp site toilet .... mmmm
Tulips at Mont des Bruyeres Camp site
Charlemagne's Building - now a Museum
Various shots of the Aachen Cathedral. Very Gothic!
Street scenes in Aachen Old Quarter
Charlemagne's building and his Statute
Really interesting shop in Aachen. Dispenses into customers containers, choices of dozens of different flavoured vinegars on one side and choices of flavourings for home brews on the other.
Outside pub built in early 1600's in Aachen. Only surviving building in great fire that wiped out the city.
