- Messages
- 633
- Type of diabetes
- Type 2
- Treatment type
- Tablets (oral)
- Dislikes
- Impolite people, yobbish behaviour, pretentious people.
Thank you, Jay. Budapest is indeed brilliant, and I'll get around to it a little later. It was the penultimate town on the trip.
So there we were waking up on a Sunday morning, the departure day for our Rhine/Danube cruise to hear the steady pounding of heavy rain. We were due to catch the train to Brussels that left at 09:10 so we had ordered a taxi for 8:15. This would give us a clear margin in the event of any traffic holdups, though we weren’t anticipating any that early on a Sunday morning.
Sure enough, the taxi arrived on time and we arrived at Luxembourg station with time enough for a coffee before our train pulled in on platform 1.
There wern’t many people on the train, either, so even without reserved seats we had a wide choice. The Brussels route can be quite boring as the train stops at almost every little village along the way.
But we arrived at the Gare du Midi with the rain tailing off, a hopeful sign. We had 30 minutes to get off the train with our bags, descend from the platform to the concourse, find the timetable for Amsterdam, reach the requisite platform and climb aboard the Thalys, the Dutch version of the French TGV, the high speed train - tasks we carried out in less than 10 minutes. We found our carriage, showed our tickets and were allowed on board. I stowed our cases while Jackie made her way down the carriage to our reserved seats. In the time remaining before our departure more and more people came aboard, though it never felt crowded, with its large windows and the sun beginning to appear through the thinning clouds.
Once the train pulled out of the station (dead on time) I went down to the buffet car and chose a couple of rolls and two cups of coffee to act as lunch. The rolls were good, contradicting the complaints of train travellers worldwide. They were chicken with hummus, fresh, flavoursome and very more-ish.
The Thalys travels at up to 300 kmh but is surprisingly smooth and quiet. Those old clickety-clackety sounds I grew up with are no more. The northern part of Belgium and virtually all of the Netherlands are very flat so the train quickly picked up speed and was soon rocketing along at max speed.There were a few stops, but it seemed that we no longer drew to a halt than we were on our way again, with passengers looking for their reserved places.
We enjoyed the journey immensely and it seemed no time at all before we were pulling into Amsterdam station. This wasn’t far from the hotel where we spent our first visit to Amsterdam, only to find as we wended our way back after dinner one evening that we were situated in the middle of the red light district. I tried to convince Jackie that the ladies in the windows were, in fact, waxworks supplied by Madame Tussaud but she wouldn’t believe me.
This time was somewhat different. Our ship was moored about 400 metres from the station, so we drifted along the quayside making for the bright red Viking canopy that covered the desk where our concierge took charge of our luggage, pointed us to the Line’s gangway and we were installedin our cabin within a couple of minutes. Once our bags were brought to us we unpacked, shoved the cases under the bed and went to have a look at our surroundings. We had chosen this cabin as it was the closest to the bar (am I joking?) and only a single flight of steps from the restaurant. Both of these were at the sharp end of the ship, while the passenger cabins were at the blunt end. Us salty old seadogs are familiar with this nautical jargon, you understand.
So we had a quick turn around the deck then descended to the bar where I had a chat with the bartender (always get on good terms with the bartender and your waiter as quickly as possible - it makes him or her feel better and you get better service for the rest of the cruise).
So there being not many passengers aboard we had a pleasantly uninterrupted chat, interspersed with malt whisky on my, and gin and tonic on Jackie’s, behalf. This was a young man who knew his job and I was an old man with a collection of 38 malt whiskies. We quickly came to an agreement: if I couldn’t think of a malt offhand he would surprise me with one he might think I was unfamiliar with.
Let me explain the system on board Viking ships: passengers can purchase in advance the Silver Drinks Package, which gives the purchaser the privilege of drinking whatever and however much you want from the bar without further payment. This also includes wine with lunch and dinner.
More people came on board and followed the same procedure as we had, so the bar began to fill up. We chatted with a number of people whose names I promptly forgot (it’s the age what does it, ducky).
The occupants of the bar began to thin out as the time for dinner arrived. Jackie and I carried our drinks from the bar down to the restaurant where we found a table at the far end. Nobody joined us, but the waiters introduced themselves and we liked them immediately - there was Djorge (pronounce it George), Vladimir and an exquisitely beautiful young lady named Scilla, (pronounce it Sheila). She was tall, slender and in looks like a young Cyd Charisse. Over the subsequent two weeks we came to know them and their life stories well. They were also very efficient at their jobs, so it boded well for the rest of the cruise.
So there we were waking up on a Sunday morning, the departure day for our Rhine/Danube cruise to hear the steady pounding of heavy rain. We were due to catch the train to Brussels that left at 09:10 so we had ordered a taxi for 8:15. This would give us a clear margin in the event of any traffic holdups, though we weren’t anticipating any that early on a Sunday morning.
Sure enough, the taxi arrived on time and we arrived at Luxembourg station with time enough for a coffee before our train pulled in on platform 1.
There wern’t many people on the train, either, so even without reserved seats we had a wide choice. The Brussels route can be quite boring as the train stops at almost every little village along the way.
But we arrived at the Gare du Midi with the rain tailing off, a hopeful sign. We had 30 minutes to get off the train with our bags, descend from the platform to the concourse, find the timetable for Amsterdam, reach the requisite platform and climb aboard the Thalys, the Dutch version of the French TGV, the high speed train - tasks we carried out in less than 10 minutes. We found our carriage, showed our tickets and were allowed on board. I stowed our cases while Jackie made her way down the carriage to our reserved seats. In the time remaining before our departure more and more people came aboard, though it never felt crowded, with its large windows and the sun beginning to appear through the thinning clouds.
Once the train pulled out of the station (dead on time) I went down to the buffet car and chose a couple of rolls and two cups of coffee to act as lunch. The rolls were good, contradicting the complaints of train travellers worldwide. They were chicken with hummus, fresh, flavoursome and very more-ish.
The Thalys travels at up to 300 kmh but is surprisingly smooth and quiet. Those old clickety-clackety sounds I grew up with are no more. The northern part of Belgium and virtually all of the Netherlands are very flat so the train quickly picked up speed and was soon rocketing along at max speed.There were a few stops, but it seemed that we no longer drew to a halt than we were on our way again, with passengers looking for their reserved places.
We enjoyed the journey immensely and it seemed no time at all before we were pulling into Amsterdam station. This wasn’t far from the hotel where we spent our first visit to Amsterdam, only to find as we wended our way back after dinner one evening that we were situated in the middle of the red light district. I tried to convince Jackie that the ladies in the windows were, in fact, waxworks supplied by Madame Tussaud but she wouldn’t believe me.
This time was somewhat different. Our ship was moored about 400 metres from the station, so we drifted along the quayside making for the bright red Viking canopy that covered the desk where our concierge took charge of our luggage, pointed us to the Line’s gangway and we were installedin our cabin within a couple of minutes. Once our bags were brought to us we unpacked, shoved the cases under the bed and went to have a look at our surroundings. We had chosen this cabin as it was the closest to the bar (am I joking?) and only a single flight of steps from the restaurant. Both of these were at the sharp end of the ship, while the passenger cabins were at the blunt end. Us salty old seadogs are familiar with this nautical jargon, you understand.
So we had a quick turn around the deck then descended to the bar where I had a chat with the bartender (always get on good terms with the bartender and your waiter as quickly as possible - it makes him or her feel better and you get better service for the rest of the cruise).
So there being not many passengers aboard we had a pleasantly uninterrupted chat, interspersed with malt whisky on my, and gin and tonic on Jackie’s, behalf. This was a young man who knew his job and I was an old man with a collection of 38 malt whiskies. We quickly came to an agreement: if I couldn’t think of a malt offhand he would surprise me with one he might think I was unfamiliar with.
Let me explain the system on board Viking ships: passengers can purchase in advance the Silver Drinks Package, which gives the purchaser the privilege of drinking whatever and however much you want from the bar without further payment. This also includes wine with lunch and dinner.
More people came on board and followed the same procedure as we had, so the bar began to fill up. We chatted with a number of people whose names I promptly forgot (it’s the age what does it, ducky).
The occupants of the bar began to thin out as the time for dinner arrived. Jackie and I carried our drinks from the bar down to the restaurant where we found a table at the far end. Nobody joined us, but the waiters introduced themselves and we liked them immediately - there was Djorge (pronounce it George), Vladimir and an exquisitely beautiful young lady named Scilla, (pronounce it Sheila). She was tall, slender and in looks like a young Cyd Charisse. Over the subsequent two weeks we came to know them and their life stories well. They were also very efficient at their jobs, so it boded well for the rest of the cruise.
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