8th October Rottadam to Ghent

 ** "An adventure is a crisis that you accept. A crisis is a possible adventure that you refuse, for fear of loosing control." (Bertrand Piccard - Swiss psychiatrist & explorer). I came across this quote last evening and reflected upon it for a while before I decided to type it into my blog and mould it around myself and my current situation. I am not sure to what degree this was really a crisis (and in terms of the scope of the universe, a small one at that) but I am sure that I was due for an adventure. And last evening I certainly had an adventure.

** Last night ( 7th October) I was informed that the hotel booking for Antwerp I made and paid for, in full back at the end of May, has suddenly evaporated into thin air. There is no talk of the payment disappearing as I paid it via credit card to booking.com  They have told me the funds will be refunded in full. For me that is a given but the issue is now i have no-where to stay tomorrow night nor the following 2- 3 nights. Not a great position to be in when you are a stranger in a strange city, lack of local knowledge, lack of local language, lack of the promise of a bed with a roof overhead, and lack of the promise of a hot shower.

The main issue is that I have, all the way through this trip, booked accommodation that is within 500 metres on average to the main train stations as, more often than not, this allows me to easily walk around and to visit museums that are generally positioned close to the town centres.  Booking back in May also allowed me to select accommodation that was reasonably priced & within my perceived budget. Having been travelling for over 3 months now I am aware that prices of hotels in Europe have risen by over 50% since I originally booked & paid. 

I need to leave my current hotel in Rotterdam by 11am so I trust that I will be able to get something sorted before I must catch a train by at least 12 mid-day. Keep tuned to this station to see what eventuates.

BTW does anyone have close friends or family in Antwerp? LoL 

** Ok. Having used Melody as a sounding board, via the ubiquitous WhatsApp chat, I have changed tack. Mel asked me about my Plan B. That 'plan B' cattle-prod made me consider other cities I might be interested in, so I looked at the map and one in particular just stood out having rung a very feint distant memory bell for some reason. So instead of going to Antwerp I am now going to the University town of Ghent. I managed to find a self-contained studio in Ghent which is one of the oldest non Roman cities in Europe (This statement was not apparently correct and my own further readings have indicated some Roman affiliation with the area) and also has an amazing economic history. Not the cheapest of accommodation but I hope to squeeze booking dot com for some compensation for the balagun they seemed to have caused me.

I suppose that when one travels on their own, hiccups like this can be easier to fix than when travelling within a group because discussions, emotions, and compromises all need to be taken into account, and depending on the group size and personality dynamics, there will always be some who feel that they have been pushed into something they never wanted to do. Like go and visit somewhere you have never heard of, like Ghent.

My new destination for the next three nights. It looks like the road trip of 2½ hours from Rotterdam to Ghent should be full of beautiful scenery.

** Its 3:20 am and I am wide awake. Possibly due to the 1 litre bottle of iced Green Tea & Citroen that I was sipping for over an hour while working on my tomorrow's  destination conundrum. Anyway not being able to sleep often allows one's mind to certainly wander, and wander for me it has. 

I am finally reminded of why Ghent is in my memory at all. Some poor high school teacher must have endeavoured to teach this poem in one of my English classes. See the following I borrowed from Wikipedia.

"How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" is a poem by Robert Browning published in Dramatic Romances and Lyrics, 1845. The poem, one of the volume's "dramatic romances", is a first-person narrative told, in breathless galloping meter, by one of three riders; the midnight errand is urgent—"the news which alone could save Aix from her fate"—although the nature of that good news is never revealed. Two of the riders’ horses collapse en route; the narrator alone makes it to Aix with the news, and rewards his horse with a drink of wine.

In the words of William Rose Benet, it is "noted for its onomatopoetic effects. " Browning himself remarked in a letter, "There is no historical incident whatever commemorated in the poem... a merely general impression of the characteristic warfare and besieging which abound in the annals of Flanders". (Undaunted, an editor of Browning suggested the historical event of the Pacification of Ghent in 1576.)

The towns through which the riders pass are characterized only by the associated time of night, dawn, and day, also a feature of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's later poem of urgent nightlong news-bearing, "Paul Revere's Ride". Although the incident is fictional, the sequence of towns (several of which are referred to by their French names) is a rational one: 

For those interested, here is Browning's poem complete (https://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/content/how-they-brought-good-news-ghent-aix)

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;

"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;

"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,

And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

II

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,

Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,

Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,

Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

III

'T was moonset at starting; but while we drew near

Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;

At Düffeld, 't was morning as plain as could be;

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,

So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

IV

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,

And against him the cattle stood black every one,

To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,

And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,

With resolute shoulders, each butting away

The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:

V

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back

For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;

And one eye's black intelligence,---ever that glance

O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!

And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon

His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

VI

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!

"Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,

"We'll remember at Aix"---for one heard the quick wheeze

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,

And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

VII

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,

And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"

VIII

"How they'll greet us!"---and all in a moment his roan

Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;

And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight

Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,

With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,

And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

IX

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,

Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,

Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,

Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

X

And all I remember is---friends flocking round

As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;

And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,

As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)

Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

** I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I have. I certainly must have dispised it as a teenage student yet here I am about to spend three nights in the town where the good news stemmed from. Who ever said that education is useless. 🤓 You just need a life time of patience before you might be able to use it.

** Welcome to Ghent. 

Some images I took while walking from the bus stop to the appartment.

** The appartment.

I am staying at a somewhat more upmarket type of accommodation than I have been used to over the past 18 plus hotels and nearly 12 weeks of travel. 

The place is called Getaway and the building used to be a monastic seminary. The room is between 3 to 4 metres wide and 4 to 5 metres in length. This is 2 to 3 times the size of my room on the kibbutz back in the day. My only initial complaint is the lighting in the room is so bad. Even worse when the curtains are closed. The bed is at least 1.7 metres wide so I will enjoy my sleep this evening, especially after that 4 hours I managed to get last night, fridge, microwave, hob, kettle, cups, glasses etc. Someone must have spent millions doing this up.

Apparently there are lots of restaurants just to the top of the road and to the left.