July 10th 2023

I woke up with a view of a typical British neighbourhood. Nice brick houses, each with a small lawn and a driveway in front. Broad sidewalks with pupils walking to school and people jogging or walking their dogs.

The ferry to leave Britain and return to the continent was going to leave at noon. About 130 Kms were separating me from the docks in Dover and it was Monday morning…

While packing, I had the chance to see Leander’s oldest son leave home to go to school. We took some photos and said our goodbyes. I enjoyed visiting them in their new home and having a glimpse of their life.

The roads were packed. I had to sneak through the traffic even on the motorway. On the way I passed the exit to Brands Hatch, a racing circuit a played often on videogames. With more time at my disposal, I would have loved to race with Lollo on it.

I arrived in Dover with a little delay and got immediately stuck in the queue to board.

As expected after ticket and passport check, I was pulled out again for a security check. There must be something about an Italian on a Ducati that screams for breaking the law 😅

Between the late I acquired with the traffic, the queue and the security check it was already 12:05 pm. All the cars and most of the trucks had already boarded. So I ended up with a nice private parking spot in the lowest truck bridge.

As soon as I got up to the deck, the famous White Cliffs of Dover were awaiting me.

In my earphones the Irish song I heard in Cardiff: Dirty Old Town, accompanied me. A nice nostalgic moment took over: I had met so many friends and made some new ones. The Cliffs were fading at the horizon…

Compared to the previous ferry I took from France, this one, from Dover to Dunkirk, was taking less than 2h to cross. Aboard weird rainbow cakes and a colourred lounge.

The ferry arrived in Durkik, France but in less than 1h I was in Belgium 🇧🇪

I was not far from Brugge, a lovely town in the Flanders so I decided to head there foe the evening. I found a tactical parking spot and used the invisible cloack on Lollo.

I visited Brugge at least four times and still like the atmosphere.

Lots of memories of the one and half years I leaved and worked in Belgium. The Waffels here are just feom another league but I resisted the temptation.

After this long day, I spent the night at the camping Memling directly in Brugge. The next day was going to be entirely dedicated to Belgium.