Hotel am Kastell
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TripAdvisor Reviews Hotel am Kastell Goch
Travel Blogs from Goch
... started to do fun things.
But then when I turned thirty it hit me for the first time, the funny thing is though it hit me being at home.
Longing for a place I spend the last 6 months. A place that felt more like home then the country I lived in my entire life. But more importantly longing for the person I have been for the last 6 months. After returning home I realized that even though I would go back to the other ...
For some reason Mona decided that she wanted to walk with me. I have to say I was flattered, and slightly apprehensive that I wouldn't walk fast enough, and she would get frustrated with me. If she did, she didn't let on. We chatted about family stuff, and work stuff and generally pointed out interesting things to each other as we passed them, like the drone flying over head, filming us. It was nice to walk with someone else, and Mona ...
... out on ibuprofen. At one point I sat on a wall and actually cried - the sort of tears that spontaneously leak out of your eyes but with no emotion attached.
Shortly after this, two sisters from Rotterdam grabbed me by the arms and pulled me the last mile to get over the finish line by 15.25. I don't think I will be doing the foot-rub thing again. Keep your boots on until you're home, I've learnt. I celebrated completion of another day with an overpriced cornetto.
... every possible hideous item of kitsch you could imagine. Plastic pig wearing a flying helmet? You got it! Small goose wearing a Victorian bonnet? No problem! Elvis and Charlie Chaplin? Of course! I have nightmares about this sort of thing. The photos don't do it justice.
Just before the finish line, we passed through the town, getting held up at a bottle neck. When we finally waddled forward, it appeared the hold up was caused by a very convincing she-male dancing in ...
... and gardens, and a marina on the river with lots of boats. The road goes around on the dyke. After my walk I sat in the car and read my book.
About lunch time, Paul's wife, Sabine, turned up. She had ridden her bike thirteen kilometres from the town they live in. She was very nice and took me to her studio at the back where she paints. This is her hobby, so she comes here to pass the time, when Paul is at the garage tinkering with his cars.
We went to the ...