Dinant, Belgium

I saw a picture of Dinant, Belgium a few weeks ago, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't let it go.

So I looked at a map and realized it was only 1.5 hours from Luxembourg. THEN I found a blog called Belgium With Kids, telling me exactly what I should and shouldn't do with my kids while visiting Dinant. AND THEN we went. 

Europe and autumn and happiness all collided this particular Saturday. The drive was beautiful, the kids kept their meltdowns to a minimum, the park was fantastic and the view breathtaking. 

The Packers, Mullins, Andrews, and Mackays all met at our house at 9 am and we caravanned up north, driving through Rocher Bayard (a world war landmark of the farthest western reach of the German military during the World War II Ardennes Offensive and said to have been split by a giant hoof of Bayard -- the giant horse carrying the four sons of Aymon on their legendary flight from Charlemagne through the Ardennes), and arriving at the base of the Citadel next to the Collegiale Notre-Dame church. 

The Citadelle de Dinant is on a cliff above the town. You can visit the Citadel by climbing 408 steps or taking a short and steep cable car ride to the top (for the same price). We opted for the cable car ride. The boys loved it. Ben loved it. I loved it. And I loved the woman who told me about it. 

At the top, we soaked in the view of the river Meuse, Dinant, and the changing leaves throughout the valley. We toured the Citadel first. Our family spent a lot of time in the courtyard climbing on cannons and running through tunnels with Ben and I trying to read a few plaques before heading to the playground. 

A park and a great itinerary really make a big difference. When I can get my hands on a good itinerary for children and our family, I feel like we can do anything. Kids played and adults talked for nearly two hours until all the food had been consumed and nap time started approaching. 

We rode the cable car back down to the city center and trekked across the bridge to take pictures. 

Otto said his legs were tired and he couldn't make the walk. Aksel kept running away and climbing on construction equipment that had clearly been identified as dangerous. Ben couldn't stop talking about gingerbread he'd seen in a store window. I urged them on because I NEEDED to see the view and take a picture. 

I got what I needed. Then we carried Otto and Aksel back to the car and sent Ben in search of gingerbread. He came back with chocolate. Becky and I strolled the city for 15 minutes looking in shop windows in search of Christmas ornaments. She told me the gingerbread wasn't gingerbread at all but Couque de Dinant (cake of Dinant). It's an extremely hard, sweet biscuit that's not intended to be bitten but instead broken into fragments to be soaked in coffee or sucked on. 

Later that day, I posted a picture on Instagram -- a replica of the photograph that had set this day in motion for me weeks before. I felt tickled that I had actually been to such a place; that I had walked across the bridge and stood beneath a statue of Charles de Gaulle and appreciated Belgium in all it's loveliness. 

Ben also posted a picture from our day's adventures. This was his caption: another day another trip. 

Ben may be over Europe. That's okay. I'm not! 

Photographs are still inspiring me and other people's trips and blogs and itineraries are making it possible for me to share it with my family. I know this time of adventure in quaint foreign countries won't last forever, and while that's sad, it also makes days like Dinant feel like they came together in a really perfect way. 

We drove home from Dinant, letting Aksel and Ingrid sleep. Ben left soon thereafter to help Scott Oliver lay sod in his new yard. After feeding, bathing and getting the kids ready for bed, the doorbell rang. It was trick-or-treaters. Otto and Aksel were thrilled! Apparently people know we're American. The boys helped me pass out candy to nearly 30 trick or treaters that evening. Otto noticed no one was saying Trick or Treat. There were a few Happy Halloweens! and one group sang a little song. It's confusing to be an expat sometimes. 

When I walked into the living room to tell Otto it was time to head upstairs to bed, I watched him slip from the couch and crack his head against the corner of a wall. 

I knew based on his crying and the blood he would need to go to the hospital. 

I called Ben. No answer. 
I called Ben again. No answer. 

I called Scott. No answer. 
I called Tracey (Scott's wife). No answer. 

I started to unravel. 

Then I called Becky and asked her to call Nate (who was with Ben). 

Becky called Nate. No answer. 
Becky called Nate again. He answered and said: my phone's about to die. 

Ben called one minute later and said he was on his way home. 

The nice thing about blood is it really shortens the waiting time at the Emergency Room. Ben and Otto were home within an hour and a half with a glued-up head and indian takeout. 

We tucked everyone into bed and I started to shed a few tears over Otto's trauma. Just then the doorbell rang. 

Who are these people? It's late! The porch light is off! My kid split his head open! Go away! 

It was Russ and Star with rice krispie treats. I instantly forgave them and forced them inside to eat indian, drink mango lassis, talk and play games. 

Most memorable Halloween ever.