On the Road Again: Hello Ypres

Fri 19 March: Sheila and I were up early enough to say good bye to Beth, Jeff, and the kids. After they'd gone, we finished our packing, which by this time in the trip has become a matter of minutes, and we were out the door. We made the walk to the train station in a drizzling rain stopping to take pictures of the local residences. It seems that residences are taxed according to the linear footage that faces the street. So houses are narrow and tall. Interesting. We caught the train to Rotterdam Central where we bought food and wine for the journey. Or train to Brussels was supposed to leave from track 4, but track 4, we discovered, did not exist. Really, it didn't exist. We asked an official. She asked where we were going and said that train was rescheduled for track 6. Track 4 was under repair and out of service. It reminded me of a scene from Harry Potter when he looks for platform 7 and one half. Well, we go to track 6 only to find that our train is delayed for 24 minutes. No problem, so we wait. A train arrives several minutes ahead of when it's supposed to, and it looks like a local and not an international. Everyone is confused including the locals. After several minutes of confusion bordering on as close to panic as Sheila and I ever get, we take a leap into faith and climb aboard an extremely crowded train. For the first time in our travels, we cannot find seats together, and we're still not sure this is the right train. Soon we got verification that this was indeed the right train. After a few stops, the train empties out a bit, and Sheila and I find seats together. All is well, and we enjoy the ride together. After about 2 hours, we arrive in Brussels. As trains often do, we paused before pulling into the station. There, below us, prostitutes. (pun intended) Dressed in their "work clothes" thongs, teddies etc, these ladies of the evening sat in large bay windows which were surrounded by a thin red neon light. Advertising. The entire male population on the train was on our side of the car. I feared we'd tip over. There were several city blocks of these young ladies. When they have a client, they pull down the shade. Closed for business. The level of personal freedom is amazing. Sex is regarded as a natural human function, and space is made for it in the culture Soon the train pulled out. (pun intended), and we arrived in Brussels. We had time to make our train reservations to Paris via the high speed train. Reservations cost 82 Euro, the most expensive in Europe. You'll see why when we go to Paris. Nevertheless, we made our connection to Ypres, the site of our tour of the WWI battlefields in the area. Our train was a composite meaning that only the last three cars in the train went to Ypres. The rest are split off and go somewhere else. Lesson: always make sure you're in the right car. We got to Ypres just before 15:00 hrs in time to locate Old Tom's, our hotel and have a walk around. As we were coming into Ypres, I pointed out to Sheila the increase in the number of cemeteries we passed. We checked in and walked around. We found the shop where we are to meet tomorrow for our tour. We walked to Menin Gate, a large arch, where, engraved in the sides, the names of 54,000 soldiers whose bodies were never accounted for. The identified casualties are buried in grave yards with a headstone marking the spot. This is a charming little city quiet, peaceful, and full of commerce.It's an interesting irony that one of the world's great tragedies has resulted in an economic boom for this little town. Shops, tours, souveniers, museums all are dedicated to the events of 1914-18. As I said this is a peaceful place full of life and commerce normal in.every way: children playing,lovers sitting on park benches, people going about their daily lives, but at one time not too long ago, this place was laid to waste through man's violence and folly. Pictures taken at the time show Ypres as a wasteland. Not a single building stood the ravages of bombardment. It happened almost a century ago, yet there is an immediacy about it. Little paper poppies decorate the memorials put there by relatives or children in school groups.In fact every English school kid is required to visit these battlefields as part of their graduation requirements. After dinner at the hotel, Sheila and I went to the Last Post Ceremony, a ceremony held with the exception of the 1940-44 German occupation 20:00hrs since 1928. Half a dozen buglers play something equivalent to taps. Someone lays a wreath at the foot of the Menin Gate usually school children. It is very moving and very powerful. I am excited to be here, and I look forward to the tour tomorrow. More later. Love to all.