Day 41, 23 July 2014 - Bruges to Brussels, Belgium. Which is a teensy bit of a surprise to everyone, not least of which me. The day was going swimmingly - train from Bruges to Brussels, nice and early, super organised. In fact about an hour too early to check in on the Eurostar to London. Read book, rehearsed quick walk from St Pancras to Euston for train to Wales. All good. 11 am, exited Belgium. 2 pm re-entered Belgium. Hmm... that can't be right. Declined leave to enter the UK... WTF? Ohhhhhh - I get it.. Woman in her 40s travelling alone, wants to spend 5-6 months in the UK, husband supporting her (a likely story), doesn't have 10,000 odd quid in her pocket (seriously - has this border force person ever travelled on the Belgian Metro?) In any event, apparently it was every red flag ever raised that I was, without a shadow of a doubt, an overstayer and had every intention of siphoning public monies as I was unemployed and no intention of ever leaving the UK. I think there was a helluva lot of resentment and hatred that anyone could actually not work and travel in such a way. I strongly suspect with freedom of EU movement and the inability to torment the Polish (and everyone else) as they come and go, they are justifying their existence by tormenting Kiwis and Australians - as even couples in their sixties were getting the 3rd degree. So after the ignominy of fingerprinting and having my bag searched, I got to sit patiently waiting to return to Belgium. Damn... now what... Wifi... must have contact with world. Not a lot of free wifi at the station - finally found a cafe, bought a salad roll, got online, booked a room for the night and after a false start or two, made it onto the metro and to a pure white Parisian style apartment where I could collapse and relax. Feeling frightfully unloved by the world at large. But getting back to the main question of the day... Now what? Step 1 - let the folks I was going to be visiting and the folks I was housesitting for know... Step 2... Not to keep harping on, but... now what. I am by nature a planner - the past six weeks have been planned with military precision. Accommodation booked, trains reserved, sightseeing outlined etc, all very economically, so, now what. Got onto one of our international housesitting sites and found a couple on the Costa del Sol in Spain who'd left their 4 cats to be cared for by the gardener. Wasn't apparently working out... Hmmm - 7 weeks in southern Spain, somewhere between Marbella and Malaga. That could be nice. So I dropped them a line, hoping to hear back...
(Pictured is a favourite shot from my time in Brussels a few days ago - too preoccupied to go and take photos of anything else!)