Sorry for the lower quality than usual, struggling to find a fast internet connection to upload the higher quality videos!
Louise’s old workmates gave us a wee stuffed giraffe to take with us. Little did we know, or they warn us, that (s)he is a raging alcoholic. No sooner did we turn our backs in Belgium then he was out in the sun on the spare wheels, hoarding some whisky.
The critter’s got a life of his own though. He soon disappeared back into the surf, only to reappear in France, on a snowboard with his trusty tipple, riding off pieste towards Mont Blanc.
I’m pleased to say we found him later in the day, having only moved a matter of metres since we last saw him.
An updated, slightly more riveting version of our introduction video from the other day.
Automated numberplate recognition doing its thing
France-Belgium - least interesting border so far
Belgium-Holland - nothing to write home about
The exciting side of the Belgium-Holland border
France to Belgium was hard to spot. In fact we thought we were in Belgium 5 minutes before we actually were, when we realised all the places on the signs were Belgian. When we hit the border, it was at 70mph, and with far more acknowledgement that we were entering Flanders than Belgium (the region being more important than the country, when the region defines the language and culture, and the country defines, well not very much).
Belgium to Holland was more interesting today, being in Putte, a small village that straddles the border. Which had been marked by the Dutch, never ones to shy from offending those conservative neighbours, by a sex shop on their side. And very little else.
Our Carnets are yet to emerge from the box in the boot, our passports yet to be opened. But somehow I doubt these crossings will remain in our minds as typical border experiences from this trip.
The pictures above are from our in-vehicle webcam – see more here.