Last Day in Brussels and a Change of Plans

30 August 2006:

My last day in Belgium, I woke up, got breakfast and read by myself until a guy came over to ask for the butter and jam on my table. We exchanged "hostel pleasantries" (Where are you from? Where have you been? Etc.). He came from Toronto, but is originally from Trinidad. He invited me to sit with him and his wife. Judah is a black guy with dreads (cool ones, not the gross ones), a professional soccer player (looks the part) and married to Janet, a white girl from Toronto. They met at school in Miami. She'll be going to school in Brussels and he's going to try out for the football/soccer team. They were really nice, got jilted in their apartment deal and were trying to figure out their next step. Poor kids!

With my trip winding down (I was supposed to be flying out of London the next day), I wisely spent most of the morning at the internet café down the street from the hostel searching for airfare. I had this crazy idea of extending my trip one more time to go back to Copenhagen and surprise my "friend," Kristian. Was I nuts?? In the end, I accepted my insanity, changed my flight home, and called Mom and Dad to let them know—they were not happy!

With the morning completely gone and the hours in Brussels ticking down, I made a darted to the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts. I flew through the rooms, taking in the fleshy Rubens, the disturbing Bosches as fast as I could; lamenting the time crunch as I sped past the detailed Brueghels (both Elder and Younger) and the masterful Rembrandts. It wasn’t nearly enough time to even remotely enjoy the museum. Afterwards, I dashed to the downtown area to buy some chocolates for Mom and Dad and to enjoy one last waffle with my last two euros fifty cents. I desperately searched for a waffle stand: they’re everywhere when you don’t want one, but no where when you have a train to catch in less than an hour!! I found a stand, finally, and ordered one with drippy chocolate sauce—mmmm! Hot and terribly delicious!

After the chocolate and waffle run, I was in a huge rush. The Eurostar does a TSA-type security check and border patrol. To go through the wanding, frisking, and questioning, you need to be 30 minutes early. I had 55 minutes to get from the waffle stand, back to my hostel for my bag, and downtown once more to the train station just to arrive before the train’s scheduled departure time! Running very much behind, I silently willed the metro car to go faster, mentally exhausting myself with worry of missing another train (Remember Barcelona??).

As though the gods were smiling down on me, the clocks slowed and I made it to my hostel and back to the train station in record time. 25 minutes before departure, I bought a few more chocolate bars, stood in a long security line, and made nice with the border patrol so he’d let me into his country. Getting the A-OK, I walked to the very last car on the platform, and settled into my seat for the speedy ride under the English Channel. My seat mate, a rare coin dealer, was pleasant but not terribly talkative. However, he gave me a big bar of Belgian chocolate and wished me luck in my travels when we departed! Score!! [The photo is when we were IN the Chunnel. I was just glad my seatmates were all busying themselves and not looking at the silly American girl taking a picture of the pitch-black insides of a tunnel!]