Passing the Time

Well, it has already been one month and two days since I arrived in Melrose, home of the sevens rugby, burial ground for the heart of Sir Robert the Bruce, location of the first Sir William Wallace statue, (Braveheart?), and the site of an ancient roman village!! My how time flies!!
Work is going along as per usual, the pints are flowing and the Scottish rains have arrived. I have done a bit of exploring in the neighbouring border towns, and been up to Edinburgh for the festival. I climbed the Eidon hills, without being blown off by the gusty wind or freezing up in the cold, and when I reached the top the view was expansive and the quiet solitude amazing. (A different kind of solitude from the "where are all the under 50's!!" solitude) Life as I know it consists of trying to understand the Germans, Italians, Bulgarians, and other various Europeans that pass through, whilst also getting my ear around the various Scottish accents that I sometimes think are a whole nuther language in themselves.
In light of the drama that has unfolded with the terrorist bomb scares that have thrown airports and airlines into a high security frenzy, and the Turkish blasts in Istanbul and other tourist spots, it makes the fact that I am in a sleepy little Scottish town as opposed to my plans of Turkish teaching seem not so bad at this point in time. I have realised how far removed we are in NZ.

SMALL TOWN CRIME BUSTER
The morning started off with the appearance of the constable at Burt's. By the afternoon, Nick (proprietor) was sitting on bleeding Dave (a disgruntled employee that had been fired the previous day but had been hanging around drunkenly) out on the street in an effort to restrain him, which was followed by the police slapping on handcuffs and hauling him away. Later that evening, his friend was thrown in the "chooky" (South African for jail apparently) for stealing alcohol from Walters, one of the three supermarkets in Melrose. (Why there is three, literally within metres of each other, I don't know) Oh the trials and tribulations he he : )
A SIGN OF THE AGES
Whilst Auckland has recycled shops with names like The Paper Bag Princess, Scotland has thrift shops called "Care for the Aged", "Heart foundation" "Cancer Foundation", and other charitable things.
I currently have my eyes set on Morocco in a couple months, and reuniting with one of my dearest friends who will be on this side of the world, both of which should keep me going through this aging town, he he and the increasingly cold weather (goodness knows how I am going to get through winter!).
SELF IMPROVEMENT
After each shift we get a free pint of something on the tap. As you may or may not know, I am addicted to diet coke, thus, the diet pepsi has been my beverage of choice (ordinarily I wouldn't drink it back home as I have an aversion to the syrup types, but it tastes better here!). But as I calculated, at the rate I am going, by the time I left, I would have had 120 pints of the intestinal rotting poison!! So, I have switched to a pint of soda water with a slice of lemon. Essentially, I am getting free bubbles, whooop! But I am sure that in 20 years my insides will thank me : )

Scoffing the Waffle

AAHHHHH!!! All I have to say is that my trip has suddenly taken a nosedive into becoming a major gastronomical event. Belgium, the land of waffles, all things baked, roasted, tarts, pasteries and chocolates; (I'm telling you, those champagne truffles are a one way track to lala land!!) a lot of the food is a crossover from France and holland, but hey whos complaining!!

FROM FRANCE,WITH LOVE
After a hike in the Pyrenees with giant mumbo slugs and snakes pretending to be sticks, and plants giving Claire a rash, a brief stop in Montpellier, (Pastis, the French tipple, made from liqourice, mixed with water, looks milky) a few heatstroke ridden days in Orange and Avignon, my faithful travelling partner and I went our seperate ways. We had intended on having our last supper on this amazing mountain, sitting on the old Roman ruins, acompanied with some tipple, but our plan was thwarted by the dreaded Sunday, when nothing opens and people mysteriously dissapear. We managed to salvage a bit of a sunset, but the meal was more garish than gourmet.

VILLAGE PEOPLE
From there I travelled to Preixan, a little circulade village (think of the movie "Chocalat") (and when I say little I mean the patissere, post office, and cemetery being the "features"; the closest thing to a grocery store is in the next village, about a 15min scenic walk through vineyards and hills, and friendly village folk offering you a ride). My last days in France included several evenings of fine French wine, trips into Carcassone (town) to see the Old Medieval Cite, and many many pastries and tarts. I was fortunate to be staying in a place that felt like home, where George sits by you panting away happily (the dog), Jan looks after everyone like family and provides daily rides into town which is essential as their are only 3 buses to and from the village; PLUS there was a stockpile of books, and in English!!. I know, the geek in me lives on; I'd begun to read everything from graffitti to the ten thousand brochures that are always available at the tourist offices; you can ask Claire about my reading aloud sessions to her in the entrance of our hotel : ) Unfortunately we couldn't watch the France/Portugal soccer match as we didn't have a tv but apparently there was major clebrations in town; this we heard the next morning from a couple people that had stayed in town and didn't arrive back until early morning after walking home. I was glad to be in the safety of Belgium upon learing of the French loss as it may have been a depressing few days in France!!)
RIVER TOWNS AND WINDMILLS BLOWN FROM HOLLAND
After arriving without knowing exactly what language is spoken here, or where I was going to go, Belgium has been whooshing past. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay with an "Aunty, Uncle & cousin" in Bredene, one of several beachside towns. It was a luxury to be greeted at the train station by friendly faces, sit in a car, and not have to lug my pack from one end of town to the other (although I feel as if I am becoming one with it, I may be walking with a bit of a hunch) and have a home cooked meal!! My days have consisted of being out by 7am and returning late at night;Oostende, Brugge, Liege (the biggest markets that I have ever seen, stretching all the way along the river, (I tried to take a picture to capture the infiniteness but ended up taking a picture of a map of the river as there was no way I could capture it) with so many people that you feel as if you are trying to get into something, but it was just one continous crush) Antwerp, Gent, Knokke (a VERY rich seaside town where it is ok for an older gentleman to wear a pink suit jacket on the beach; plastic bike baskets are replaced by Louis Vuitton embelished baskets); and tomorrow Brussells. Can I just say, there are now several masssssive live crabs, freshly caught, sitting in the fridge; who knew they could survive for several days in such freezing conditions!! I can't off the top of my head remember too much about my ventures, but Beligum is a beautiful place to wander, especially when you get away from the crush of the tourist centres in town to find the smaller characterfilled streets on the outskirts. It's small, (around 3-4 hrs to get from one side to the other) and easy to get around. As it is summer holidays, I think I came back everyday saying that there was a festival going on in whatever town I had just been in, surely sounding like a broken record. Whilst most English people don't understand why people would want to go to Belgian, and indeed many Belgians themselves don't even understand it, there is a certain charm in the small towns that don't have much to offer but a nice milling quality.

Liqourice tally thus far - liqourice ice cream, lollipop, cookie, liqour, bon bons; I've definitely been in training for Holland!!