My dear Gérard,

I suppose that @ this very moment you are on your way to Lyon.  I trust you received my letter from the Waiting Room at Dover.   Well, a lot has happened since then.  I was the first on the boat Prince Baudouin and easily acquired a sleeping berth.  I slept like a top till 4:15 am when we were told to get ready to disembark @ Ostende.   You pobably know that this seaside resort has for years been frequented by royalty as well as by commoners.  And so, by the end of July, these sunny North Sea shores were already drawing crowds of vacationing Belgians seeking respite from the crowded inland cities.

I was on the road before 5 am and @ 5:15 hitched a ride via the Autosnellweg to within 5 km of Bruges.  I walked into the town and spent till 10 am looking around.  I found it really well worthwhile seeing an old-world town interlaced by many canals.  Shown alongside above "Bruges" is one of the many such artificial waterways, the Napoleon Canal, built in the 18th century, by order of French general and emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, to link the city with the North Sea. (I learned that as long ago as the 13th century, the Belgians built canals to drain polders, or areas of low-lying marshland, that extended inland from the sea. They used windmills to pump water out of marshes and into canals, which then drained into the sea - end of history lesson!) 

While having breakfast, I was given some advice by a Dutchman, who was touring Belgium with his wife on bicycles, as to the best route to Ghent.  Shortly thereafter, a Belgian gave me a short lift, and then followed rather a long wait.  I walked on a bit and came across a large car which was being tinkered with by an equivalent to our RAC.   The owner, on seeing me, offered a lift all the way to Brussels, but I wanted to see Ghent, so he drove me to the outskirts before pushing off.  He turned out to be a Russian, who had been a student in Brussels University and had never returned home. 

Ghent was very similar to Bruges, only on a much larger scale, and perhaps, not so picturesque.  The buildings were, however, most impressive, but what struck me most in both towns was the fact that many of the church towers are fitted with carillon bells, which operate every 5 minutes or so, producing some delightful tunes.

Most of the day so far has been threatening, but after finishing my lunch of 5 large juicy apricots, it came down pouring.  This naturally spoilt my chances for lifts, and I had almost given up in despair, when a van picked me up @ 5 pm, arriving in Brussels in putrid weather.  it took me ½ an hour to locate the YHA, only to find it full to the brim with a recenlty arrived Danish party.  In the vicinity of the Midi Station there was a large fair.  I had a cheap round of fritures at one of the stalls and then enquired the prices of lodgings: the cheapest available (only bed) was 65F, nearly 10 bob, so I gave up the idea.  However, I went to the Midi and in laboured French asked the baggage room attendant, whether I could leave my rucksack there for the night, and if I took a ticket for the 5:52 am train to Maline - or Mechelin -  (rusé, n'est pas?), whether I would be allowed to sleep there.   (It's a very new station and comfortable accommodation is available, if you take the trouble to look for it.)  Well, it worked!  I had a wash and shave @ 11 pm, then @ 12:30 am left for a sightseeing tour of the city.  I didn't want to leave Brussels without seing something of it.  Fortunately, the rain had stopped, and I spent 3 hours over my tour-by-night.  I returned to the Midi and slept till 5:30 am.

I 'did' Maline in less than an hour, then hitched a soldier-driven car to Anvers (Antwerp).   The Gothic-style Cathedral of Notre Dame dominates the city: I was told that construction began on this, the country’s largest cathedral, in 1352 and was not completed for 200 years. My brief pilgrimage to it was to acquaint myself with the many artistic treasures within, most notably masterpieces by the 17th-century Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens.  On exiting I encountered my worst luck to date, although it turned out for the best. Right up to 3 pm, even though there was a steady stream of cars towards the Netherlands, I was walking without a stop.  In the end I was so foot-weary, that I waited for the tram which goes right to the frontier town (only a 8d fare, which gives you an idea of the distance I covered on foot). 

As I descended from the tram, who should pass by but my Swedish friend from Dover. (After picking up his friend in Paris, they changed their minds about their return trip and decided to see Holland en route.)  I was, therefore, driven all the way to Amsterdam, via the route I'd planned in London. They were quite willing to drive me to Sweden, but I wanted to see the important places in more detail, than by just whizzing by in a car.  The YHA was again full, but I was told that the YMCA wasn't much more expensive, and so got a bed in a dormitory for 6 bob (breakfast included).  I had a very good dinner for 3 bob, followed by a shower, and then, to make up for all the lost sleeping-hours in Belgium, turned in at 7.30 pm and slept round the clock.  At breakfast next morning I became acquainted with an American, and we left together, first to change money at Cook's then to go round one of the Rondfart - a tour of the canals and harbour of Amsterdam, a very novel experience.  The tour guide told the passengers that, for centuries, the canals of Amsterdam comprised the trading hub of Holland. Wealthy merchants lived and worked in the large early-17th-century houses lining the canals. Hazardous or foul-smelling industries were prohibited in the area. Most of the steep-roofed dwellings we saw opn either side were now hotels, offices, and banks.  On our return to terra firma, we had a good lunch of Wiener schnitzel, I said goodbye to my companion and left for a leisurely visit to the Koninklijk Paleis and the Rijksmuseum.  The former, also known as the Royal Palace or Dam Palace, has earned the nickname “Eighth Wonder of the World” because of its unusual construction. The vast structure on Dam Square was built atop 13,659 wooden piles that were driven into the marshy soil to hold it in place. Inside the palace are the renowned van Helt Stockade allegoric ceiling paintings and a regal decor by leading artists of the 1800s. Dam Square sits at the point at which the Amstel River was dammed in the 13th century, giving Amsterdam its name. 

Known to art-lovers around the world, the Rijksmuseum needs no introduction from me:   suffice it to say, I thoroughly enjoyed - albeit all too briefly - the opportunity of meandering through its many galleries, and contemplating awhile, shut in from the din and bustle of a great city, the tense, dark compositions of Rembrandt that personify the eternal struggle between man and nature.

At the station, I bumped into and Indian, who had arrived 2 days previous for his holidays from London.  I then crossed the Ij by ferry and at 5:30 pm was on the road to Hoorn.  An American-speaking Dutchman (Inspector of Licences for the Govt.) took me all the way to Hoorn, whence a Dutchman, who had travelled twice to Calcutta, took me across the Ijsselmeer.  Once a large bay called the Zuider Zee, in 1932 the lake was separated from the North Sea by a 32-kilometer (20-mile) dike.   Incidentally, halfway across the dike highway, which is an  incredible feat of civil and hydraulic engineering, the man behind the wheel told me he was a Frisian (or Frieslander) and in his native dialect there was a proverb which fit perfectly when travelling this particular route:  Schljucht rjucht - or "Stick to the straight and narrow!"  After reaching the other side of the dam and saying thank-you and goodbye, I was able to stop an Army ambulance which dropped me at Sneek where I sought refuge at the YHA, getting accommodation on the floor.  I arrived at 8:30 pm, having done a journey of 72 miles in 3 hours.  After dinner 2 English boys (one an Oxfordian studying Semitics and the other a London Jew) also arrived and what with 2 English couples, a handful of Dutch folk, and a party of 25 Germans from the Agricultural College @ Stuttgart, it certainly was a full house.  I left early Saturday morning and made good time, getting a lift without hitching from a couple, who had travelled to Sneek and had seen me leaving on foot and so, on the return journey to their home at Zwolle, they offered to take me there.  After lunching on sandwiches and taking photos of the town, I made Appeldoorn by early evening.

Here my luck ran out mainly because another hitch-hiker, who installed himself most inconsiderately ahead of me, stole my lift, even though I had been there before him.   This cost me a further 2 hours, and it was 7:30 pm when I made Deventer, only to find that the YHA Kleine Haar was 10 km away.  As there was no lift forthcoming, I walked 8 km, and hitched an ordinary cycle(!) being dropped @ the front door.  I was dog-tired, but @ 10 pm played the piano in the large hall, when the "Leader" asked anyone of the members present to start up a song.  I went through my Swiss Club repertoire, for which I was applauded. 

Next morning, I got quite easily to Almelo and then, once again without hitching, an English-speaking Dutch motorcyclist in his early 20s took me to Hengelo, to his home, introduced me to his father and sister, we played billiards (French), had lunch, I played the harmonium till tea-time, he took me on his motorcycle around the countryside for nearly 3 hours (covering 125 km) and then invited me to stay the night in the room vacated by his younger brother, who had just that very morning left for his summer holidays with a Scout group.  I couldn't thank them enough when I left after breakfast yesterday morning.

I quickly secured a lift to Oldenzaal and when I alighted I noticed a German car by the kerb in which a couple were referring to a map. I enquired timidly if they were going to Hamburg and almost fell over when they said they could take me all the way.  The gentleman was a German engineer in Hamburg and the lady,  Lyonnaise from Paris who had lived some years in Bavaria.  Right throughout the long trip, they were continually cracking jokes, sometimes in German and sometimes in English or French - altogether a most amusing experience!  We arrived in pouring rain, I thanked them very much, he gave me his card, and I made for Jo-Jo's address as quickly as possible, taking the tram @ the main station to the outskirts, and then an autobus to Schenefeld.   I stayed here last night, and as a Swedish friend of the family is arriving this evening from Stockholm, Frau Petersen has persuaded me to stay another day, so I will be able to have my prepared route quizzed by him and can ask him various questions about the country.  Jo-Jo sends you his regards; he is busy at the moment, working as an apprentice in his father's timber business.

Well that's all for now.  Hope you have a good home-coming trip.

From your Indian Friend,

Chinny (Azim)
c/o Joachim Petersen, Blankeneser Chausee 22, Schenefeld-Hamburg, Deutschland

P.S. Mileage to date: approx. 525 miles.

Ostende

Amsterdam:
Rondfart

Amsterdam:
Koninklijk Paleis


Ijsselmeer