” riding in foreign countries is…really foreign” this my friends is nothing short of the truth! left the lovely confines of Brixotn after a nearly teary goodbye from my lovely finace to meet with Greg at the Cutty Sark. Sun Shines on the day and to be fair everything feels pretty smooth. The ride out to Canterbury was warm, hilly and generally enjoyable bar a few fast stretches on the main roads. We missed our boat at 4pm and had to wait for the next crossing to Dunkirque at 6pm, least helpful person of the day award going to the lady in the kiosk at Norfolk Line ( yes I am naming and shaming as you can only travel to Dunkique via them). Concience of time we dock at 9pm local time and the fun really starts now… its getting dark and motorways are for cars and big articluatled lorries, do not ever attempt this ever! back streets are hard to find and so was our way, the least favorite part of the trip by no stretch of the iamgination. Greg and I ready to tear a piece off the next least helpful person we meet… find ourselves at a kiosk with a nice man smoking ( by this time I want a smoke too..) who led us to the hotel, all be it via a cheeky cab ride… don’t care if we cheated. FULL STOP!. Here begineth the book of quotes, leading by example and relying on instinct,   Direct maps: NO…so Brugge beckons and intuition takes over not before sleep. tomorrow begins tomorrow.

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