Walking the dog here and there

Walking with Amy & Samba in The Netherlands, April 2013.

I’m feeling disconnected. There is no leash in my hand or canine companion at my side. I have just completed another dog sitting gig and I am once again walking alone.

Daphne in Australia wonders if it is too hot for a walk, December 2013.

In the past couple of years I have walked dogs in Canada, Australia and the Netherlands. For me this has been an everyday life experience in a home away from home. 

Samba enjoys a walk in The Netherlands, July 2014.

Sometimes the few weeks caring for a dog as part of a house and dog sit has given respite from the intensity of visiting museums, churches and other cultural and historic sights while travelling.

Tess in Canada wonders if it is too cold for a walk, December 2012.

Walking other people's dogs has provided a structure to my day, exercise, time in nature and time for reflection. Would I get my own dog? No, I have no desire to be tied down. Looking after someone else’s dog is like being a grandparent – at the end of the visit the responsibility can be handed back. 

Dogs in a parade I watched today in Ieper, Belgium.

Relaxing in the museum courtyard

Courtyard at Rijksmuseum Enschede, The Netherlands

I've discovered I love sitting in the courtyard of a museum or art gallery with a cold drink or a light lunch. It provides a rest, both from walking and from intense scrutiny of the treasures.

Lunch at Queensland Art Gallery in Brisbane

Sometimes the courtyard has a garden, a water feature or sculptures.

Queensland Art Gallery Courtyard, Brisbane, Australia

At the Queensland Art Gallery you can lunch with lizards and ibises.

 Ibis and lizard at Queensland Art Gallery

If the weather doesn't favour sitting outside, the museum cafe is usually pleasant enough. At the Maritime Museum in Reykjavik, Iceland in May we opted to enjoy the fish chowder indoors.

Fish chowder at the Maritime Museum in Reykjavik.

Doing the laundry

One of Ásmundur Sveinsson’s sculptures in the garden at Ásmundursafn – The Ásmundur Sveinsson Sculpture Museum in Reykjavik.

This statue in Reykjavik, by Icelandic sculptor Ásmundur Sveinsson, immediately spoke to me of the traveller’s ongoing challenge to maintain a supply of clean clothing.

More than two months into a European trip I have seen very few laundromats. One I stumbled upon was no help as my dirty clothes were some distance away, back where I was staying. Once, with a bag of dirty laundry in hand, I was directed to a laundromat and fairly quickly emerged with a stack of clean clothing. The service was rather pricey though.

Laundromat in Orleans, France.

A benefit of staying in other people’s homes, as I have been doing most of this trip through airbnb bookings www.airbnb.com/‎ and a house sitting engagement, is that there is often the opportunity to do laundry.

Electric clothes dryers being relatively rare outside North America this does mean hoping the clothes dry before it is time to move on. I was intrigued by this solution I spotted in Spain for keeping the rain off laundry put outdoors to dry.

Drying clothes in Madrid.

Cycling in the Netherlands

Cyclist on a bike path.

No, not me. My Dutch friends did find a bicycle for me. It was too big though for my short legs and I decided not to risk it. It has been several decades since I did cycle touring in Tasmania and New Zealand and rode a bike to work in Queensland. Since then I have seldom been on one.

Bike riders are all ages.

Nearly everyone cycles here, as you may know. People of all ages, often with their shopping. People going to work. Parents with children for and aft in all sorts of carriers. Women in dresses and even high heels. Family groups, one that appeared to be parents, children and grandparents.

Clear markings on bike lanes.

With a strict “yield to the right” rule, cyclists turn onto main roads immediately in front of cars and even big trucks. The ultimate traffic rule here is “cyclists rule”. Pedestrians get some respect – from motorists.

Motorists turning right are warned to watch for cyclists in the bike lane.

In a month in the city of Enschede I have seen only three riders with helmets. Two were racers in spandex and the other, a little girl learning to ride her two wheeler. I have observed several young people texting while biking. For discussion on bicycle safety in the Netherlands see these blogs.

http://www.tobysterling.net/2008/04/bike-injuries-and-deaths-in-netherlands.html

http://www.bakfiets-en-meer.nl/2008/10/16/bicycle-death-statistics-in-amsterdam-and-the-netherlands/

Child carrier and bike in bicycle shop window. 

Walking among the departed

Campo Santo Cemetery in Ghent, Belgium

What genealogist or family historian can resist a cemetery even if there is no chance one’s own ancestors rest there?

Cemetery at Fossvogur in central Reykjavik, Iceland

The only time I recall not accepting an opportunity to view a cemetery was in January 2014 during a 5 day South Australian heat wave when temperatures reached between 40 and 45 degrees Celsius each day. I was visiting the quaint town of Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills. After lunch in an air conditioned restaurant, instead of crossing the street to the historic cemetery, I continued walking in the shade to the bus stop so I could get back to the beach.

Cemetery in central Enschede, The Netherlands

In a cemetery we remember those who went before. A cemetery is also a place to ponder the beauty and brevity of life, to observe varied cultural and religious perspectives on death, and to witness care and neglect, remembering and forgetting. The pictures are from cemeteries I have recently visited.

Campo Santo Cemetery in Ghent, Belgium