,
The Kid was
beside herself with glee, ecstatic that she wouldn’t have to endure le dreaded walking and aimless meandering
around town for at least the next couple of hours, as we were instead scheduled
to recline in comfortable leisure in a speeding train, heading to Bruges via
Lille, France. Little did we know then that
our early morning departure was all in vain for we were destined to spend a
good chunk of the day sequestered in a hustling and bustling train station, hapless
prisoners subject to the whims of track breakdowns, repairs and cancelled trains.
Literally kicking our luggage along the
curb, as we once again miserably schlepped our over-burdened bags to the
station, Miss Spoiled Princess lamented her unfortunate predicament of having
to trudge - one pink sneaker at a time - to the railway station. Why was her mean ol’ Auntie so damn frugal,
unwilling to fork out a couple of Euro for the convenient luxury of a taxi
ride? Why couldn’t she instead be driving around
Europe in chauffeured limos, jetting around in private jets and sailing the
seas in luxurious yachts? Like seriously,
her cheapo Auntie has absolutely no qualms about dishing out several hundred of
those colourful bills for the latest haute couture designer satchel, so why
therefore scrimp on fast and efficient metered cabs? Well, Kid, in my own defense….hey, hold on a
minute here….who’s writing this post, you or I?
Yikes!! Now that I’m back on track here…I’ll just
carry on with the rest of the story….
Even though
we had to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to high tail it to the railway
station, transfer trains in Lille for the short hour and a half long commute to
Bruges, I was pleased as punch for having seamlessly plotted our journey,
envisioning a noon-ish arrival in the medieval canal lined town. What I hadn’t anticipated for, were the minor
hiccups that every globe-trotter eventually encounters, the sort of roadblock
that leaves one at the mercy of those mischievous gremlins of travel, delighted
at being able to throw a wrench in your plans and trip you up a bit. The travel gods must have been laughing it up
at our expense, for today was our turn to miserably languish the day away,
wasting endless hours sitting on the cold hard benches of Lille’s bustling
railway station.
It was too
good to be true, the pair of us, effortlessly cruising into town, precisely on
schedule, as per our meticulously detailed itinerary. This was more our speed, luckless pawns in
the untimely breakdown of a portion of this well-travelled corridor, the tracks
requiring urgent repair, resulting in the cancellation of our 11:08am
train. With the next train departing at
1:08pm, we now had several hours to fritter the day away - not enough time in
which to actually leave the railway station and explore this corner of France
but way too much time in which to become expertly acquainted with the nooks and
crannies of this transportation hub. To
be perfectly honest, I’d much rather be languishing in a quaint outdoor café,
lunching on moule et frites and sampling the local brew in pretty as a postcard Bruges, than having to resort to mercilessly
kicking the vending machines into spitting out a few cans of soda and a couple
of packets of stale crisps in a gritty railway station.
And then, lo
and behold, just when I thought that I’d heard it all, the Kid once again
astounds and astonishes me, by uttering six words I never dreamed would effortlessly
roll of her tongue by asking just one simple question – Auntie Nora, can we
walk there?
Come
travel with the Kid and I as we jump back into time to medieval Bruges, our
arrival delayed due to the unforeseen complications of modern rail breakdowns. Come hang out in railway stations, sit back,
relax, read a magazine or two, as you wait for the next train to yet unexplored destinations en route to new adventures.
Next week
– Still languishing in Lille?
Bruges? Where do my
pink-sneakered feet take me? Stay
tuned!!
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