Entry 4 Seven modes of transportation in 29 hours

[David and Susan Bratt]

Herewith, the exhausting details of arranging to pick up a motorhome.
We had received confirmation that Rover had been loaded on her ship and that we would receive an email early in the week detailing the procedure for picking her up. But by Wednesday noon we hadn’t heard anything, and since we were flying out Thursday at noon, we once again called our freight forwarder in Baltimore. She told us that that information would come to us from Zeebrugge, but she would try to hurry them up.
That afternoon we finally received the information and were told that the ship would indeed be unloaded on Saturday, that we could pick up Rover on Monday, and that we had to see a customs clearing agent 48 hours in advance. Suddenly we had something to do on Friday besides get to Brugge and find a hotel.
When we met the customs clearing agent we would need our passports, the title to the vehicle, proof of insurance, and the bill of lading. We had received nothing that looked like a bill of lading and again called our freight forwarder. Surprise, surprise: she said that too would come from Zeebrugge and (all together now) she would try to hurry them up.
But nothing. So we called again on Thursday morning and told her that we were leaving at noon for the airport. And we did . . . without the bill of lading. Surely we’d be able to get email access in Brugge and print it.
The flight was the usual: too cramped for too long. Mercifully, it was shortened by more than an hour because of a great tailwind. We arrived in Amsterdam at 5:30 in the morning (10:30 pm our time), missing a whole night’s sleep.
Because of the great public transportation, we were able to take a train directly from the airport to Brugge, changing trains in Antwerpen. We were in Brugge by 10:30 and in a hotel (by bus) by 11 am. Since our room was not ready, we left our luggage and walked a short block to the library, where we purchased internet service good for a year. We got our email, including the bill of lading! We printed it (it had been sent at 11:57 am Thursday, about a minute after we’d locked the door to our condo in Minneapolis) and headed out into the rain to find a taxi.
The taxi ride to the customs clearing agent’s office was €38. Money well spent, because we never would have found it on our own. We had to wait for the agent for over an hour. Then he talked to us for about five minutes, collected the necessary papers and disappeared for another half hour. We were trying desperately to look awake and intelligent and responsible enough to drive our large vehicle on their narrow roads. He returned and said that everything was taken care of: we would have no problems with customs on Monday, they would only have to inspect the vehicle, and “that will be €75, please.” When we asked if there was a bus or train we could take back to Brugge, he seemed to take pity on us and found a friend heading in that direction to give us a ride. By 4 pm we were napping in our hotel.
We had been awake for 29 hours straight; during that time we had been in 2 taxis, a light rail car, a tram, an airplane, 2 trains, a bus, and a private car. All we wanted was the motorhome. Monday, maybe Monday.