Highway Troubles and Tribulations

In less than a week I have driven over 800 Km. Not much for most, I am sure. But for me quite huge, considering that my average driving per year is around 7000 Km, max. Basically, I use the car to go back and forth to work, to do my weekly rounds for groceries and sometimes to visit friends around Belgium.

In the last few weeks though, I found myself, very untypically, driving up and down from Belgium to Holland. A bit of a nerve wrecking situation to drive in other countries. Rules may vary, however slightly, but more importantly, because of drivers’ behavior in an unknown territory.

Anyhow, one must do what one must and the reason I had to do it is because I had to help my son move to Holland where he is taking up a new position. So, plucking all up my courage, to the very last crumb of it, I took up my mission staunchly.

Into the highway in Belgium

Well, this is my turf now, after having been driving here for nigh on 20 years. I am not saying that it is always easy, but I know “my people”. Just need to curse them once in a while, to let the steam out, for the reckless behaviors.  In the meantime, my son is falling apart, roaring with laughter, at what he calls “my road rage”.  Yeah…as if… 

But seriously, running the risk of being dubbed a sexist, I must say that man are, in general, the worst because, for some unfathomable reason, they do not take it kindly when a woman takes them over on the road.  That triggers some male, primitive button and it is stronger than them; off they go on a quest to prove that they are the hunters, the Alpha and Omega of the existence.  I have to confess though, that sometimes, when they are driving a less powerful car, it is rather funny to play with them for a minute or two.

Oh well, so be it. What can one do? Just take it in your stride and continue driving, making sure that they do not kill you in the process for, sometimes, it takes a lot of swerving and some tight ones, at that.

And then, into the next phase, you enter the unknown territory: 

The Dutch Highway!

Man, do they speed on their highway or what?!? It makes you wonder where they can possibly be going in such a hurry, especially if they are carrying bikes or pulling boats, which, clearly, scream out HOLIDAYS, the purpose of which, is to SLOW DOWN, people… Go Figure!  

I, for one, try to maintain my speed limit of 120 km/h. Not that I am not tempted, after the first 50 Kilometers, to go faster so that the next 100 is done and dusted as fast as possible. For, by now, I really need a cappuccino. My eyes are getting dry and itchy (the joys of presbyopia) and caffeine is highly recommended.  But besides the fact that I have my son with me and still some sense of self-preservation left, I always mind those fines which, if nothing else, would keep me on the straight and narrow.

Curiously, and to make matters even worse, the speed limit changes often in Holland, between 90 to 130 km/h. All of a sudden it drops from 120 to 100 or 110 and you expect that the road will narrow at some point or that there are maintenance works going on. Well no, and I am yet to figure out why. But these constant changes, even if they can curb the excitement of some drivers, they are no help to the novice, I mean to the nerves, as you have to keep on the watch out for the next change.

After some 150 Km and some serious disagreements with the GPS, which keeps re-calculating the route, we finally landed in the most beautiful neighbourhood. 

In the middle of a large avenue lined with trees and shrubs, the biggest rectangular shaped fountain - the length of the whole street- of cascading waters run down with a gentle gurgling sound. On both sides of this picturesque view, stand a number of rather futuristic-looking buildings which, surprisingly, do not tarnish the overall feeling of beauty and harmony.

On to the town for that much yearned-for cappuccino, and we are totally bedazzled by its beauty.

We entered the town by an old and charming bridge straddling one of the four rivers that cross the city.  It is lined on both sides by curtains of cascading willows mirrored in the green waters where some boats glide indolently.

On the East side of the bridge, lays the most striking historical center. On cobbled-meandering-narrow streets and alleyways, dark brick buildings, like paintings emerging from a long-gone era, stand proudly, boasting pink and red flowered balconies. Criss-crossed by waterways, the streets brim with deliciously quaint- little shops, taking us back to a time where the high street brands were not almighty and all-pervading.  
  

This almost dream-like setting, is completed by the most beautiful, blue, pink and beige coloured bikes, ridden by women, men and children going about their daily lives without a thought for motorized vehicles. 

A most striking bucolic setting that brings some understanding as to why such a small country has bred the most outstanding landscape painters.

All in all, well worth the troubles and tribulations of the highways. It is time to head back home, to Belgium, anyway. So I may as well be stoic about it.