Art & Soul
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TripAdvisor Reviews Art & Soul Brugge
Travel Blogs from Brugge
... to find out what would happen if they wrapped in the gears. I pulled over to tie and tuck them in; no issue but was at the end of the group as I needed to catch up. I also noticed that the sun was strong and the trail was hard to see the hazards as the early morning had the sun right in our eyes. Just as the pace was relaxed and rolling through the parks you heard a bang and saw someone crunch over the handle bars. Even though there was nothing you can do, it was painful to see ...
... didn't disgrace themselves.
Then we walked down to the Menin Wall to hear the last post which is played every day at eight p.m. There was a huge crowd so we didn't see the display out in front, but we could hear it.
On our way out we stopped to have some dinner at a place called Captain Cook, (Michael said they named it that to catch gullible Australians like us and they did!) before coming back to our boat for the ...
... through an estuary tunnel called the Westerschelde. We were surprised as there had been a ferry here for a long time and apparently this tunnel is fairly new. There were doors on the sides that were labeled exit--Becky wanted to know where one could exit as we are under a lot of sea water! Hmmm. Good point Becky but not one I want to consider--I didn't want to think that an arm of the North Sea is over my head as we travel.
But out we came into the province of Zeeland ...
... thought I realised were not me, or even Lisa, but the Hotel's plumbing system bubbling into action.
Looking out of our window onto the Groote Maarkt below, we could see people on bicycles criss crossing the square below, gently pedalling their way to work.
Stuffing more Euros into the parking meter, we set off for a walk round the central area, some of the streets we had driven down last night. The really interesting part is really ...
... br> Despite my polite refusal and gentle acknowledgement of the time, he carried on and a fresh can was plucked from his rucksack. As the gas on the ring pull hissed for the umpteenth time of his morning, he began to unravel.
“Where are you going?” he enquired.
A puzzled face glared back at me.
“Belgium?”. The penny dropped and he moved on with haste. “I’m off to ...