Long overdue

Our route thus far has been:

Glasgow - Stranraer - Belfast - Galway - Dublin - Dusseldorf - Cologne - Amsterdam - Bruges - Ypres - Brussels - Lille - Reims - Dijon - Geneva - Lyon - Avignon

Therefore this post is long overdue.

Travelling without a set plan or route is just as foreign to me as drinking beer in the streets.

We wake up in the mornings and if we've seen enough of the city we're in we move on. But it isn't until that morning that a decision is made as to where we're going. This is both freeing and frightening. But so far I've been able to put my concern and worries in neutral and just go.

I keep hearing from other hostelers that the worst case scenerio is that you have to sleep in a train station for a night; they've been there and done that. They say it's all about the backpacking experience; so far it hasn't come to that for us, but it may.

Leaving Bruges was bittersweet for me. The Snuffle Inn was the hostel we stayed at and after only 2 nights it began to feel like home. The beds were comfortable, breakfast was included and the owners didn't skimp on heat.

We strapped our packs on and headed out towards the Bruges trainstation. Direction: Somewhere in France.

Not knowing where you're off to with minimal to no background information can really waste a day; as it did this day.

After a full day in trainstations and on the train we finally ended up in Reims. When done correctly the trip should have taken 3 hours from Brussels.

The morning after our arrival we were back on the train, but this time we had a plan (created that morning). We would stay in Dijon for a few nights. Yes! No more bouncing around, at least for 2 nights in a row.

There are good plans and there are bad plans; Dijon was a very, very good plan.

It was cheaper for us to settle into a chambre avec non toilet than it was to find a hostel. So we found our little space of French realestate at Hotel le Jaquesmart on a one way backstreet.

Our room was cozy and a way up three steep staircases up on the very top floor, which felt more like a converted attic. Our view was of the roof tops of the 400-year-old stone manors and town homes.

The next day was spent under the warmth of low autumn sunshine that would peak out between the elaborate homes and churches. These buildings continue to house people as well as immense history.

It was a market day. We weaved in and out of the outdoor fruit vendors, book vendors and anything you could think of selling vendors; all the while we were careful not to squash into a freshly laid 'poo-poo'. Dogs in France have no shame.

I was just so happy to walk around all day and take it all in. Once the sun set at around 5 p.m. we bundled ouselves up in our cozy room with 2 lemon tarts and a bottle of rosé.