No, the title isn’t a play on that old movie, “If it’s Tuesday, this must be Belgium,” but not far from it. The ferry ride from Dover to Calais takes only one hour, barely enough time for a beer and a nap. We bounced down the ramp and set our wheels on French soil again…we think. Unlike 50+ years ago, there was no border guard to greet or stop us; no Carnet de Passage to stamp; no passport to approve. Just point the MG’s nose toward land and follow it.

We kept our eye out for the traditional border barriers between France and Belgium, expecting to show, at least, our driver’s license. Once again nothing. Not even a change in road surface to show we’d crossed into the land of beer and gaufrets. Finally we zoomed by a sign on the autoroute. In English it read, “You’re in Flemish country.” We had no idea that the European Union had gone so far as to strip a country of it’s border identity. First the Euro, now this.

We arrived in time for dinner at the home of my second cousins, Any and Jean Francois Dardenne. Although we hadn’t seen them in twenty three years, e-mail and Christmas cards have kept us in contact and photos have reduced the shock of the aging process. Read more »