I’m writing this whilst roasting in an expensive Luxembourg hotel. I’m trying to nap but it’s so so hot.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun is aimed full blast at our windows so we’re sitting in the dark with the curtains pulled. It’s a shame because at any other time of the year this would be a highly desirable room, with gorgeous views out across the valley. Air conditioning just isn’t a thing over here, in the same way that double beds aren’t. Twins beds are de rigueur it seems. It’s certainly far too hot for sexy time so nothing lost.
We left Koblenz this morning. We had planned to take the train to Luxembourg, but the whole business was such a faff last time that we organized the tour company to just drive us. It cost maybe 50% more, a total of €400 between us, but it saved us two hours and much hassle.
The people who have been in charge of transporting our luggage all week did our transfer today. It’s a family firm, they are originally from Venezuela. The older lady who drove us today seemed to only speak Spanish, so she had a younger relative with her to translate and provide some company, I imagine. When I said we were from New Zealand, she asked how long it took to drive here. This was funny, but on the other hand, she obviously spoke at least three languages (Spanish, German, and English) so I wasn’t inclined to sneer at her too much.
We left Koblenz at 9 am and arrived in Luxembourg before 11. They had a little trouble with the GPS so we had a wee tiki tour of the city before being dropped at our hotel. The main language here is Luxembourgish (which sounds very like Italian to my ear*) but there are many other languages spoken, the second most widespread being French. I spoke French to the man at the hotel reception which he understood but rapidly moved to English to explain in a harried manner that it was too early to check in. He gave us a long diatribe on the terrible growing tendency for people to turn up far too early, even at 3 am, to check in, combined with people also wanting later and later check outs so that the situation was becoming non viable, but it didn’t seem to be aimed at us. He was more than happy to store our bags while we had lunch and looked around town. Meanwhile David and Kirsten had no trouble checking into their hotel.
We had lunch at a lovely little place in the square nearby. It specialized in meat which was an odd choice for one non meat eater and two vegetarian adjacent but the food was great. I should have taken a photo of my amazing goats cheese salad but I didn’t want to be that person. The waiters all spoke multiple languages but weren’t snooty at all with our Frenglish.
After lunch we went to visit the Casemates du Bock, a series of passages and rooms built into the rock under an old castle, since demolished. Another UNESCO world heritage site to tick off our list. As the temperature was climbing up fast, we decided to pop into a museum next for some intellectual stimulation in air conditioned comfort.
The museum had one whole section dedicated to the history of coins, which triggered some PTSD for me. As a child, I found an old coin at a playground in France. My father in particular treasured it, although we never got it valued. From memory it had a French king on the back. When I was at primary school in NZ, I took it to school one morning for show and tell, and while I was at lunch, it was stolen from my desk. The teacher said I should have been more careful, and there was nothing she could do about it. My dad was distraught, and never forgave me for it. He would occasionally remind me of it, in the same way that he would sometimes out of nowhere comment on the fact that I gave up playing the guitar when it got too hard. Funny because he really was a lovely guy. Anyway, old coins bring the shameful memories flooding back. I wonder if it’s too late for therapy on this one? Dad’s been dead for over 30 years so it’s too late for him.
After the museum it was back to the hotel in a vain attempt at napping and taking the opportunity to do some washing in the sink, a great Kiwi traveling tradition.
….
It turns out this is the view from our room. Gorgeous. Visiting the Golden Lady statue is one of the top activities you must do in Luxembourg. And it’s right outside our window, where we’ve been hiding in the dark from the heat.
*not true in fact. The local lingo is a mix of Dutch, German, and French, and sounds most like Dutch. So I’m guessing the waiter I heard was actually speaking Italian.