It really is a very pretty place. Unfortunately the road signs are typically Belgian, it's full of day trippers and the service at the cafe we chose was appallingly slow and miserable.
We parked the bike in what we assumed was the centre but were warned by another British biker that there's really no such thing. He made the mistake of leaving his bike near 'the big church' then going for a wander with his girlfriend. Once you've spend 10 minutes here, you'll understand why that will never work. It took them hours to find the bike again!
Suitably warned, we got back on the bike and went for a ride through the streets. We found a little cafe by a bridge over a canal. Again, don't use any of these as reference points - leave breadcrumbs or something. We parked the bike on the pavement and grabbed a nearby seat.
I ordered coffee, Catherine did the proper thing and ordered a Belgian beer. Both were good, but I'm sure she got the better deal. Unfortunately neither came with cheese.
The service was awful. No Italian would ever put up with this. We know because our Italian phrase book talks in depth about Italian complaining etiquette, then has an entire section entitled 'How to Complain'. You won't get that in any French or German phrase books!
Onwards to the ferry and we found ourselves at the front of the bike queue. A Scottish lass brought her son Callum over to look at the tractors been loaded. Apparently he loves tractors and motorbikes. He nearly wet himself when he saw my two-wheeled tractor!
Not much else to report really. We raised a toast to the happy memories and then we ate, drank and slept very well.
248 miles
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