The Landcruiser Prado took a few hits. We started out with dust, but soon thereafter we were slushing through mud. And somehow that is always after I’ve put the car through the washer.
Well, it makes for some artistic pictures.
That’s a white license plate on a silver car. Blue letters.
Artistic, as I said.
For Aussies the battlefields of WW1 are quite some traveling away. Me, being Dutch, it’s easier. You just get in your car and drive for about two hours and your right smack in the middle of things. Of course Gallipoli is further away, but Verdun, Amiens and Ypres are more or less around the corner.
Ar Ypres (you actually pronounce it “ee pruh” and not “wipers”) you can just walk into WW1. It has a fantastic museum in the “Laken hall”, which was actually more or less rebuilt brick by brick.
But take a moment and google your way around the countryside: wherever you go, you will touch history.
Driving back from another small adventure, tired and thirsty. Melbourne somewhere up ahead. Kind off staring my way through traffic, not really registering anything beyond the flow of things.
Until we slowly overtook this ute. Now let’s try to understand the story behind this.
It was a Sunday, so perhaps the guy visited his old mother, who finally returned the things he played with as a kid.
Or he has a special religion, where people worship animals. He just returned from mass.
Or he was at a fair and couldn’t resist this bargain. He will run into the house and shout “Irene, Irene (his wife), come look what I found!” She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling, trying to look beyond at some god that can explain this madness. The house is filled with toy animals. The elephant, life size, another bargain, stands in the middle of the living room.
I really must look up that company: two fat wombats.