,
Schlepping, lugging, traipsing and indulging are just part
and parcel of my globe-trotting adventures, so it should come as no surprize
that a majority of my overseas sojourn consists of languishing the hours away
in – where else? – The railway station.
Hauling over-stuffed trunks crammed to the brim with baubles
and treasures, as well as battling it out with stairs versus luggage, required fortitude
and stamina, not to mention Herculean prowess of the muscle inspiring
kind. My celebratory reward not limited
edition designer satchels as neither a Birkin, Chanel, Furla or Louis loomed anywhere on the horizon - so my only choice was to make do with soothing
libations of the merlot and shiraz mind numbing kind.
 |
| Are we there yet? |
 |
| Taking a break |
So, there I stood, parched and dishevelled, in Antwerpen
Centraal – a middle aged ol’ Auntie in dire need of liquid replenishment – either
champagne or bubbly will nicely do the trick, calm my nerves and obliterate any
residual memories of yet another gruelling day spent duelling with baggage gone
bad. Stumbling and tripping my way up
five – yes – count ‘em – five – escalators – from the subterranean track levels
below - a task of monumental proportions and no walk in the park, required the
aid of a small army of butlers and maids to cart and lug my bags up hundreds of
stairs – but alas, no such luck, for hired help was neither on my payroll nor
part of my jet-setting entourage.
Spent and fatigued, seriously contemplating kicking my
luggage to the curb, I contemplated my options:
abandon said trunks and be done with it; have a fire sale and auction
off each and every one of my treasures or take a break, give up and skedaddle
over to the nearest bistro for a lovely cuppa tea – on second thought, make
that a vino or two or three.
And that is how we frittered the afternoon away in Le Royal
Café, taste testing Belgian brew and sampling gastronomic “rail-way station”
cuisine, all the while indulging in our favourite “people watching” pastime,
commiserating (or was that chuckling) with all of the other struggling
pack-packers who also clearly over-packed!
Needless to say we arrived at our Ghent hotel just a tad
late. Heck, just blame it on those ever
so efficient trains. Or not!
Next post – in three weeks – Wednesday, December 30th!! Stay tuned for more on the adventures of cuckoo ol’ Auntie Nora in Belgium.
Come schlepp along with me on my European
escapades as I sprint for trains, trip down stairs and kick my luggage to the
curb. Just another day in the life of Pink
Sneakers on the Go...
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