Dearest Emily…
We hit the road once more, aiming for our next camp, close to the sleepy Belgic town of Arlon and the border of Luxemburg. Luxemburg is a mere dot on the vast cartography of Europe, but being such a significant area of independence, a trip was essential to our ambitions. As we approached Camping Officiel, it became clear this was perhaps a residence for rather affluent individuals of an advanced age. The clientele were of a distinguished nature, so much so in fact that the arrival of our expedition convoy was enough to raise some serious eyebrows. As the sturdy transports circled the site, all eyes were upon us; penetrating gazes and stubborn frowns at every turn. In this Elysium of aged aristocrats, our presence seemed unwelcome. We convinced the owners we were not in fact there to “party” but merely meant to regroup and rest following our recent excursions. We pitched up and head out for some lazy evening beverages by the glamourous poolside bar. Everybody was exhausted, it was nice to hit pause, relax and enjoy the decadent surroundings of this elite area.
The following day I woke early. The pain in my shoulder stung viscously, as though I were being pierced with sharp blades of broken glass. I had great difficulty finding comfortable sleeping positions and eventually decided to make the most of the dawn awakening. I took a solo stroll, twisting this way and that through the luscious countryside in an attempt to lose myself and escape the frequently travelled paths. I ventured along country lanes and winding alleys until I came across a little village by the name of Bonnert. This completely snoozy suburb had a spectacular commanding position on a hilltop and a striking cemetery, which crowned the hill. Dark grey angular tombstones in neat orderly rows dominated the enclosure. I walked through respectfully admiring the architecture and studying the inscriptions. Death has such a fascinating effect on the imagination. The way we mourn, how we comprehend and reflect on the end of a life, how we celebrate and commemorate something so certain, so assured. Whilst the stylistic approaches have always evolved both temporally and spatially, there remains throughout the history of our planet, a common attempt to monumentalise death in some way. It is a musing far too complex for this entry, but something, which caught in my mind during the brief sojourn through this distant domain of the deceased. Continuing into town, I discovered a delightful 17th century church, its rhythmic bells tolling the early morning hour. I followed occasional signs directing me towards a Scouting museum; sadly, I had absolutely no luck finding the mystery museum. It seemed an odd place for such a thing, in this quiet little corner of the world. Having walked from one end of the village to the other, I gently made back for camp to re-join the team.
We were in dire need of expedition supplies and so the convoy ventured into the nearest town. Before the conquest of Gaul, the Celtic tribe, the Treveri, settled Arlon and a vast area to the southeast. A Roman Vicus thrived until Germanic invasions destroyed much of the hilltop defences in the 3rd century. Eventually, to fortify the local population, a castle was built upon the hill in the 9th century and the town was able to grow around it.
We made a brief saunter around the cute but quiet town, collecting our supplies and soaking up the strong summer sunshine. We took in the impressive views of the church and citadel surrounded by steep narrow streets and alleys. With vehicles loaded, we hit the road once more, finally crossing the border into the prized destination so coveted throughout this Odyssey, our El Dorado, Atlantis and Avalon; we arrived in Luxemburg.
The surrounding countryside remained of a similar aspect but the city of Luxemburg itself was a world away from what we had experienced thus far. Whilst the locations encountered up until now had all been quaint, rustic examples of ancient architecture and peaceful living, Luxemburg resembled a major centre such as Paris or London. It was crammed with vast tower blocks stretching up into the skies, full of designer shops and glamourous restaurants, residents in suits going about their business, seemingly unaffected by the startling heat. There was a brief moment of panic as, under pressure in tight surroundings, our vessel captain steered the ship into a destructive obstacle, an iceberg of the carpark, the near invisible bollard. We might have been sunk if not for her sturdy hull. Shaken but undefeated, we disembarked and made our way on foot into the city.
Evidence suggests the country has been home to human activity for at least 35,000 years. Decorated bones discovered at Oetrange indicate an early human presence. 5th millennium BC settlement features suggest a significant Neolithic community resided in these lands and artefacts such as pottery, knives and jewellery have illustrated continued occupation between the 13th and 8th century BC. A Celtic population known as the Treveri inhabited the lands throughout the Iron Age until Julius Caesar completed Roman occupation of the region in 53BC, when it became a part of Gallia Celtica, later Gallia Belgica. The spectacular city of Luxemburg is set in a deep landscape gorge. The Germanic Franks claimed the lands during the 4th century and it continued to be tussled over by continuing conquerors until Siegfried I of the Ardennes built a defensive castle during the 10th century, marking the beginning of the town’s growth as a powerful medieval strategic position.
We trundled through the modern cityscape towards the ancient centre of the famous town. The city of Luxemburg lies within a defendable valley complex and many of the ancient buildings remain visible. Climbing down the hill to a fortified ridge, the views of the sprawling city came into focus, the river valley twisted through the hills, directing the human flow of construction. It was a spectacular sight, in stark contrast to the recurring flat landscapes, which had come before. I delved into the dark depths of Luxemburg’s ancient archaeological crypts, Bock Casemates. The labyrinth of subterranean tunnels carved into the rock were defensive structures maintained since the 9th century. War and terror had trodden these chilling passageways in all the ages leading up to this one. A stark reminder that in our modern world of unconscious entitlement, so often todays tourist treasures are yesterdays bloody battlefields. Emerging from the gloomy depths into the brilliant sunlight once more, a group of us skirted the outer wall of the city to view it from all angles. Luxemburg is far more affected by our modern age than other areas we had visited thus far, but enough of its ancient character remained to witness the importance of this stronghold in days gone by. We drank in the last of the vibrant city, with ice cream and alcohol and as much ice water as we could muster, until it was time to return to camp.
Our final evening in the luxury Camping Officiel was another tranquil affair, quiet poolside beers and lazy comfortable chatter continued until the stream of slumber took us all, clasping the crew in its comforting arms, rejuvenating our beaten bones and readying us for the long voyage homewards.
To be concluded…