Sis is now exhibiting classic paranoid delusional symptoms and -- small consolation -- hates bro as well. She needs meds and visits with the shrink (which she can't afford and won't let me pay for). The night before we had a truly massive seafood dinner at Pedra Alta for considerably less than a fair price. I'd say the world needs more Pedra Altas but the oceans would be empty within a month.

I left the next morning without saying goodbye.

We got to Belgium and the next day, like an idiot, I had some escargots from a street vendor. The day after that I was whiter than a ghost, sick as hell, and spent the next 50 hours sleeping, waking up every few hours for a few sips of water.

By Sunday I was fine and busy doing the prep for last night's dinner. No Intarwebs access and my recipes on a different mah-cheen I had to wing it with the chocolate cake, the only recipe I never bothered memorising since I bake sweet stuff so rarely. Of course, this is Europe and we don't have that self-rising flour. And in Belgium they don't know what the fuck baking soda is. The cake and choco-sour cream frosting was absolutely demolished by everyone.

Better still: TEH TURKAY was EDIBLE!!1!11shiftone. For starters it was a free range which came from a local farmer and stuffing between skin and meat was a lot easier. The woven bacon blanket may or may not have helped, but it pretty much covered up the expensive truffle so carefully jammed in the bird.

Afterwards -- around 1:00 a.m. -- it was a board game time, something like Trivial Pursuit. In Flemish.

The reason I could never do Who Wants to be a Millionaire in Germany is because I'd use up my lifelines and still fuck it all up in the first five questions. The harder questinos are generally a piece of piss for me save sports. The evening was... interesting.

This morning was Deja Food: we cooked the second turkey, reheated all the other shit, and all took our same seats to eat the same thing for lunch that we'd had for dinner not 15 hours earlier.

We left around 2:30 and arrived an hour or so ago in Enschede. The streets are weird: too many lights, poor markings. Inside 15 minutes I manged to drive on a bike path which was blocked by high curbs, drive into a bus-only depot stop, and go into a parking lot the wrong way which required me backing up about half a kilometer in the uncomfortable Passat. I now know that lm is shorter than 5'9".

Tomorrow is a 360km drive to Copenhagen. Still no hotel reservation because the B&B finally wrote back saying the rooms we'd booked and paid for were, in fact, sold out. Booking.com doesn't seem to recognise a credit card number but I did manage to find the number of the planned hotel as well as a back-up.

Now it's back to the Grolsch as there's someone waiting for the terminal and I've been on it a bit longer than the customary 15 minutes.

No pictures yet because the weather's been shit and there's absolutely nothing to see.