Paris, France to Brussels, Belgium
We checked out of the hotel and made it to the Metro with all our luggage. Some guy helped me get my suitcase on board, which I thought was nice at the time. (FORESHADOWING!!) Danielle’s train station was the stop before mine, so we hugged goodbye and she went on her way.
When my stop came, that guy from before materialized from out of nowhere. I thought he was just carying on with the Good Samaritan bit, but that is because I am slow to catch on.
He had actually decided to turn stalker, and followed me through my subsequent metro connections all the way into the train station. Since my departure was much later than Danielle’s, I had a little over three hours to kill. When he plopped down on the bench next to me and grinned, I was more than a little creeped out. He wrote down his address and phone number and told me to come over (which was both creepy and bizarre, since clearly I was getting ready to leave on a train) but when he asked if he could take my photograph, I had had enough.
I sprang up and went to the ticket counter and exchanged my ticket for the very next train out of there. They were really nice about it and let me exchange free of charge. I knew Venkat and Anjali weren’t expecting me for another 3 hours, but by this time, I decided I’d rather wait for them in Brussels by myself rather than sit here getting photographed by this weirdo.
So, I make the next train (one leaves every hour for Brussels) and as soon as I land, I call Venkat and Anjali, who luckily were not far away. Boy was I ever glad to see them! They had found a great parking spot on the curb, and we threw my luggage inside, then walked over to the market, where I ate a… well, I forgot what it’s called, but it was surprisingly good, considering it was a naan-like bread filled with feta and honey. (Venkat’s also contained olives.)
We went to their apartment next, which is really nice, with big rooms. Anjali said I could leave my shoes in the hall and I must have made a weird face, because she quickly added, “but you don’t have to.”
“It’s not that,” I was forced to admit. “It’s that I’m wearing the same psychedelic socks I used for my Evil Clown costume last Guavaween and I didn’t want you to see them.”
We snacked on some leftovers (they have the best leftovers in the world. I would eat nothing but leftovers if my leftovers were anything like theirs.) and then set out to walk about town. I saw the Palais de Justice and a WWI/WWII monument. We walked by the atomium, the music conservatory, the Parc du Bruxelles in front of the Royal Palace, and the Eglise Notre Dame du Sablon.
I saw the Museum of Musical instruments, whose building looked so cool that I totally want to go back and explore. The Palais des Congress has a clock tower, which plays a different song every 15 minutes. I saw a lot of Tin-Tin memorabilia and comic books, as well as some for Betty Boop, although I’m not sure why she was so popular.
Brussels is known for more than beer and chocolate (and sprouts)–they are also known for eating fries witih mayo, and mussels in a pot, neither of which I sampled.
I *did* gobble up a waffle, of course, and it was topped with strawberries, bananas, and chocolate. Venkat tells me that’s tourist-style, but all the same, it was delicious.
And, in case you’ve always wondered, Brussels actually has three official city names. Brussel (Flemish), Bruxelles (French), and Brussels (English).
I also felt the golden lady from head to toe, which is supposed to bring good luck. There were a ton of people crowded around the statue, so it must work. I forgot to ask Venkat what the story is behind that, sorry.
I also saw the infamous Mannekin Pis, and Venkat took a classic photo for me. Then we stopped for drinks. Brussels has eating tables and drinking tables. (We sat at drinking tables.) You can tell the difference because drinking tables don’t come with menus. Also–at the drinking tables, at least–you are expected to pay for each round as you go.