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Day Two and a Bit

This day is dedicated to my brother Kevin, who is suffering from Cancer on his tongue. Just at the start of his journey.

By the way, this Ipad with its auto correct sucks. Hit a “t” and you get a “b.” Hit an “a” and you get a “r.”What should only take a few minutes takes an hour. SUCKS bigly.

Let me tell you about some of the people I have met already: there is Gil, the anorexic pilgrim, Hans, the arrogant Dutch pilgrim. I asked him how his walk was going only to hear him say: it,s in the heart man, the heart. It has nothing to do with “how it,s going” but everything to do with your state of mind man”.  Okay ass-hole I thought to myself. I have not heard that kind of talk since the 1960,s summer of love…..MAN. Then there is Robert and Pierre, there is always a Pierre isn,t there. In France I mean. Robert was a 

know it all but very helpful really. Two dutch girls from Maastricht entetained us with thier violin and guitar. We went through all of the koom-by-ah stuff. But cohen,s halleluah was a hit.

Even I sang-bass. A magical evening especially when sitting beside an Abby that is over 900 years old. Spine tingling .

Just before I arrived at my first rest area I had to climb up a steep hill that went up for about a kilometer at a 30 degree incline.  This after walking 24 kilometers. God treats pilgrims in mysterious ways I think.  I finally arrived at the hostel, and fell  on the cool tiled floor for about 30 minutes I think. All I wanted was a shower but the host dutch lady wouldnt let me have  one until I listened to her introdution – Dutch torture.

It,s amazing what goes through your mind when walking. You are only in the present-no past, no future, except for the next hill or valley. And in this heat? Hard. There was one moment when all I could think about was an ice cold pilsener. And what was really weird was I kept thinking I would come back in another life as a pint of ice cold pilsener. At the very least I thought I could give someone good company for a half hour so. Weird I know but that is what goes through your mind when your brains are being fried in 30 plus degrees heat.

Another magical evening. Pictures speak for themselves if I could only get this Ipad to work. It sucks. I am quitting for today. What should only take me 30 minutes to do takes almost 2 hours to do with this Ipad. I will correct later. Sorry for the typos:

 

 

 

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Day One: Vezelay to Le Chemin

This day is dedicated to my wife Marijke, who passed December 2017.

On the road by 630 am. Left Vezelay and started walking. Started raining so put on my poncho which ripped apart. Not a good start. Stopped raining but left a humidity that was through the roof. Hot as hell too.

I almost came down with heat stroke but for the generosity of a cafe owner who opened his shop to let me cool off. He gave me cold water and food as well. I recovered and pressed on. A few hours later I  was again short on water so I went to a house, knocked on the door and two old women, sisters I think, let me in to their modest home, gave me water, two beautiful ripe tomatoes and a bag of plums. Great, and that was the way it has been.

Vezelay? How to describe it. Well, how does one describe perfection! Vezelay is an Abby town situated in the Morvan Bourgogne region of France. Absoultely beautiful. The Abby is at the top of a hill that overlooks unbelievable countryside. As if god is right at home watching his flock.  It really is a stairway to heaven. The surrounding landscape is picture perfect, as if sculpted by heaven itself. Every shade of green can be seen on the hills and the valleys. The hills undulate in perfect harmony with the   environment. You see meadows and forests, separated by plowed fields that emit a shade of gold, amber, and even bonze. Dazzling colours. Now this may not be Canada, with its wild scenery, robust lnadscape and raging rivers. Nevertheless this  countryside is no less  spectacular but in a more peaceful sculpted sense. Add to that culture, history and hospitaliy and you have a heavenly recipe. Why would anyone go the Paris when they van visit a regiion like this in France is beyond comprehension. More to come. I can’t wait until tomorrow.

 

 

Au Revoir Netherlands

River Mass, Maastricht

Beautiful Netherlands and all the friends and family of my dear wife Marijke.

The dutch language is very difficult to learn. Try to imagine having a frog in your throat 24/7 and that will give you an idea of how difficult it is to speak Dutch. Much like trying to type on this IPpad. There have been many times when I have wanted to throw this Ipad into the River Maas.

They also have a funny way with words. Take the word Liuk,pronounced “look.” Now I say “look” but the Dutch pronounce it like “Luke”as in the apostle Luke. And that my friends is the Gospel truth. It is also how they call the Belgian, or Belgique, city of Liege. A city at the northern edge of the Ardennes that got literally creamed like a Belgian waffle during the first world war. And “Luke” is also a Dutch word meaning “oooooh,so cute”when describing a something sweet like a cuddly baby or a babbling brook, well maybe not like a babbling brook. But you can see how someone like me can get confused. Although English has its own problems as in nit or knit, but I digress.

So when I am describing Liege,I am not sure if they are looking at me stupid like or think I am a religious zealot of referring to a small child, when all I want to know is how far it is to Liege.

“Oh look”they said.

“ No liege”I said.

”Oh Look” they said.

”Where”I said

“No look,over there” they said.

“Eee gads” I said “So how do I get to Liege?

“Who’s on first?” I thought

Why oh why can’t all people speak the same language?

I mean sitting on an open terrace sipping coffee is a European pastime. So why can’t everyone speak:

“L’espreseronto!”  Groan!

And thats the way it was for 2.5 weeks.

And 32-38 Celcius, 250 % humidity so it felt like the surface of the sun.

Off to France

This Ipda isdrtibniung me cfrdazy. It hasd a spelling minbdof iitsd opwn.. I

Tour de Farce – Final

Ends today-in Paris.

6 hours of sheer excitement. This event is made for CNN. It,s like, like, oh, I don,t know, like watching this:

Oops, wrong photo. No, it,s like watching this:

Stonehenge

just click on the link.

Oops, sorry, wrong photo. I mean this:

Watching 6 hours of the Tour de Farce equates to watching a barn door for 6 hours. And with this, like watching CNN,s coverage of Trump, you can also watch paint dry and grass grow. Just as exciting.

I researched this so you don,t have to.

And after this, European wide world of sports brings you the final match of the intenational darts competition.

This time tomorrow I will be on my way to France, Vezelay.

Just hope the French do not read this post.

SJ……..out.

Dutch Heat Wave

The Dutch solution to their current heat wave.  I want that.

Kill 2 birds with one slurp.

C’mon in. The beers great.

38 degrees here today……………WHO CARES?

Not me!

The other day I commented that  climate change was resposnible for the spike in suicides. Well following along in the same sort of vein comes this:

“Soaring temperatures are giving men ‘summer penises’: Doctors confirm the heatwave is having a positive effect on the size of male genitals.”

Women, and some men, are all smiles at this latest bit of climate news. “ It all boils down to one,s perspective and hold, grasp, on life.” One woman was heard to remark.

Perhaps, but stayout of the pool. Cold beer and alcohol has a debilitating effect on the members of climate change cultists!