Travelling England (1)

Thursday, July 15, 2010:

On board m.v. Stena Brittannica, cabin 8238.

When entering I became somewhat worried, seeing two bunks, while I had booked for a single cabin. No way I would share with someone else. In the end nobody showed up so they seemed to have upgraded me in some way or other. I arrived on board around six in the afternoon. After settling in I went to one of the bars to finish reading Het geheim van Paros (The Secret of Paros) by André Oerlemans. Quite a well written thriller. I'm not too keen on thrillers, but I'd given this book a chance since the writer is from my hometown. As usual there are a few coincidences too many, but on the whole it's enjoyable enough when travelling. Sadly there's a bad ending for the stunning beloved of the hero, but I find that rather refreshing. After finishing the book I had an agreeable dinner: poached salmon, fried potatoes with chicory and carrots, preceded by cream of tomatoes, followed by French cheeses and fruit and accompanied by a fairly good red wine.

On the train from Rotterdam to Hoek van Holland I had quite a conversation with the guard who's trying to grow the largest walnut of the Netherlands. He asked what I did for a living, so I gave him the usual mix of reading and writing history and literature, commenting on Dutch radio and translating poetry. He spoke with a rather heavy southern accent, I guess he came from the deep south, somewhere near Maastricht, which made him hard to understand every now and again.

The cabin is on the port side which means I'll have a good view of the town when we put in at Harwich tomorrow morning. It's an outside cabin overlooking the sea. There's hardly any wind so I expect a quiet crossing. I remember one or two very rough crossings on the Duke of York when I was a young child, with my mother seasick and my dad hardly knowing what to do. I believe I got some of my granddad's sailorsblood, as I never get seasick. Poor Stella did, which is why we did not do much sailing when in Greece. I remember us once crossing over to Paxos from Parga with a rather strong wind in a small kaïk. She felt so miserable while I quite enjoyed the ride. I can hear the engines start which means we're about to depart. Time for the bar.

Friday, July 16:

Stena Brittannica-Harwich.

It's raining. The sky is unwelcoming. I slept well and had no problem getting up early in the morning. Last night I drank moderately and went to sleep at around eleven, English time. I had a light breakfast and took a few buns with me for on the train. It's quiet on board. As most tourists travel on weekends I purposely sailed on a Thursday. It's still quite difficult without Stella. No doubt travelling alone gives you optimal freedom, but I'd rather do with less if that would bring her back. It's over three years now since she died and the pain hasn't lessened. We're waiting for the signal to disembark. There's an island right in front of me to travel.