23rd October 2005 Brugge, Belgium......to Calais, France......to London, England. Whether it be due to aftereffects of the marjuana, the minuteness of the country itself, or a general weariness from the endless travelling of the past twelve days, I remember little of Belgium. What the terrain or the architecture consisted of, I cannot tell you. Of Brugge, where we stopped mid-morning for a very brief walking tour, I remember only quaint stone bridges over swan-filled streams, cart-and-pony traps, belgian waffles, lace shops, stone architecture that possibly looked medieval, and an enormo
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