Fear and Loathing in Brussels
So I’ve been kicking it around Paris for a while, and the motivation to go somewhere comes from here:
Last weekend I was sick, yes, it can happen to the best of us. A lot of people had been sick before me, but I feel it had something to do with getting drunk on the Tuesday night before (we had a holiday the next day so I could sleep it off, I’m not that big of an alcoholic) in the Bastille at a bar, and then walking back to my apartment at 4 in the morning. It seemed like a good idea at the time with a couple of drinks in me, but no. Here is a note from an entry in my log.
Friday November 3rd, 6 PM, glands on my neck swollen, sinus’s swollen. Fever still stands at 102.5. Can barely move the pen across the page, much less move my head, watching the Smurfs, it actually makes more sense in French, I love you Smurfette…
As you can see, delirious with fever. I suppose the scariest part was that my host family wasn’t there, so there wasn’t anybody there who I could ask where I could stumble into a hospital. They go away a lot, which is awesome in the sense that I get an apartment to myself in Paris, but at the same time, aren’t they supposed to feed me?
So I spent the weekend in my bed with the brief exception of going to a concert on Saturday, in which I was definitely hallucinating all the way through. I resolved to finally break out my Eurorail pass the next weekend and go somewhere, and since Brussels was an hour and half away, why not? I needed to figure out how the thing worked anyway, because that’s what I’m doing all of Christmas break. Now people have asked, “Adrian, why are you going by yourself”? Well, I just needed to go somewhere, and it was last minute decision to go somewhere, and well, I feel like I don’t really have any close friends on the trip that I can say, “lets to go Brussels!” at a random time. So I booked a bed at a youth hostel, packed my gear, and headed off.
The point of this essay is simply this: If the European train system was a woman, I would marry her, kidnap her, and take her home with me without a moment of hesitation. It was so easy to activate the pass, get my ticket, get to my assigned seat, and go to Brussels on a high speed train in an hour and 20 minutes. And the ride was so smooooth! It blows Amtrak out of the water, picks up the pieces, and sends it on a monkey steered rocket into the sun.
So I got to Brussels, got on the metro, and found the youth hostel where I was staying. It was actually pretty nice: comfortable beds, free Wifi, lockers for your stuff, a kitchen, and large TV. I roomed with a girl from Canada, two girls from Germany, and a guy from Brazil. And all for something like 25 dollars a night: that’s about as low as it gets.
Everything you have heard about the country is true. There are waffle stands and vendors, and people selling them out of their trucks, and you can get them with hot jam, or berries, or powdered sugar. I had one the morning after I arrived with jam and hot chocolate near the town centre, and it was heavenly, and I was so hungry. More on that later.
So I puttered up and down the cobble-stoned streets, poking my way in and out of beer shops and choclatier’s, and around this way and that. Walked up the main hill of the town and saw the giant cathedral of St. Michel, city hall, and the Royal Palace of Belgium. A lot of the older buildings have a very baroque architecture that is quite both striking and almost grotesque in a beautiful way. That makes no sense, I know, just go with me on this one. It was getting dark, so I wandered back past Parliament and stopped at a Friterie Went back and got my coat, and headed out in search of meal.
You can realize how hungry you are when suddenly you’re walking around, and looking down the street at all the lit up signs of places to eat, and you say to yourself, man, McDonald’s wouldn’t be such a bad idea for dinner. And that’s when you realize that you don’t have any money in your pocket either, or anyone to eat with for that matter. There was place near where I was staying, which was called Le Grand Café. It must have been a two-floor restaurant with a lot of people inside. I looked at the menu, and I definitely could have afforded to go in and eat there, but I couldn’t bear the awkwardness of going into a restaurant by myself and sitting there alone. The funny thing is, I must have walked by it twice that night, and each time I just stood there for a minute and watched people eating and eating through the giant glass windows. Just watched them stuff food in their mouths and gulp down water, wine, and beer, and stood with my goddamn mouth hanging halfway down my face. I eventually found a small Turkish joint, and had some kebabs.
When I came back to Paris the day after, I went to a concert with a friend, and I was so relieved to have someone to talk to and hang out with. It kinda makes me nervous, because this is the sort of thing I'm going to be doing for most of Christmas break, I just hope I can handle doing it for three weeks or so.
In any case, I brought back a supply of jam, chocolates, and beer. I probably should go to sleep so I can go to class in the morning…Peace.
Last weekend I was sick, yes, it can happen to the best of us. A lot of people had been sick before me, but I feel it had something to do with getting drunk on the Tuesday night before (we had a holiday the next day so I could sleep it off, I’m not that big of an alcoholic) in the Bastille at a bar, and then walking back to my apartment at 4 in the morning. It seemed like a good idea at the time with a couple of drinks in me, but no. Here is a note from an entry in my log.
Friday November 3rd, 6 PM, glands on my neck swollen, sinus’s swollen. Fever still stands at 102.5. Can barely move the pen across the page, much less move my head, watching the Smurfs, it actually makes more sense in French, I love you Smurfette…
As you can see, delirious with fever. I suppose the scariest part was that my host family wasn’t there, so there wasn’t anybody there who I could ask where I could stumble into a hospital. They go away a lot, which is awesome in the sense that I get an apartment to myself in Paris, but at the same time, aren’t they supposed to feed me?
So I spent the weekend in my bed with the brief exception of going to a concert on Saturday, in which I was definitely hallucinating all the way through. I resolved to finally break out my Eurorail pass the next weekend and go somewhere, and since Brussels was an hour and half away, why not? I needed to figure out how the thing worked anyway, because that’s what I’m doing all of Christmas break. Now people have asked, “Adrian, why are you going by yourself”? Well, I just needed to go somewhere, and it was last minute decision to go somewhere, and well, I feel like I don’t really have any close friends on the trip that I can say, “lets to go Brussels!” at a random time. So I booked a bed at a youth hostel, packed my gear, and headed off.
The point of this essay is simply this: If the European train system was a woman, I would marry her, kidnap her, and take her home with me without a moment of hesitation. It was so easy to activate the pass, get my ticket, get to my assigned seat, and go to Brussels on a high speed train in an hour and 20 minutes. And the ride was so smooooth! It blows Amtrak out of the water, picks up the pieces, and sends it on a monkey steered rocket into the sun.
So I got to Brussels, got on the metro, and found the youth hostel where I was staying. It was actually pretty nice: comfortable beds, free Wifi, lockers for your stuff, a kitchen, and large TV. I roomed with a girl from Canada, two girls from Germany, and a guy from Brazil. And all for something like 25 dollars a night: that’s about as low as it gets.
Everything you have heard about the country is true. There are waffle stands and vendors, and people selling them out of their trucks, and you can get them with hot jam, or berries, or powdered sugar. I had one the morning after I arrived with jam and hot chocolate near the town centre, and it was heavenly, and I was so hungry. More on that later.
So I puttered up and down the cobble-stoned streets, poking my way in and out of beer shops and choclatier’s, and around this way and that. Walked up the main hill of the town and saw the giant cathedral of St. Michel, city hall, and the Royal Palace of Belgium. A lot of the older buildings have a very baroque architecture that is quite both striking and almost grotesque in a beautiful way. That makes no sense, I know, just go with me on this one. It was getting dark, so I wandered back past Parliament and stopped at a Friterie Went back and got my coat, and headed out in search of meal.
You can realize how hungry you are when suddenly you’re walking around, and looking down the street at all the lit up signs of places to eat, and you say to yourself, man, McDonald’s wouldn’t be such a bad idea for dinner. And that’s when you realize that you don’t have any money in your pocket either, or anyone to eat with for that matter. There was place near where I was staying, which was called Le Grand Café. It must have been a two-floor restaurant with a lot of people inside. I looked at the menu, and I definitely could have afforded to go in and eat there, but I couldn’t bear the awkwardness of going into a restaurant by myself and sitting there alone. The funny thing is, I must have walked by it twice that night, and each time I just stood there for a minute and watched people eating and eating through the giant glass windows. Just watched them stuff food in their mouths and gulp down water, wine, and beer, and stood with my goddamn mouth hanging halfway down my face. I eventually found a small Turkish joint, and had some kebabs.
When I came back to Paris the day after, I went to a concert with a friend, and I was so relieved to have someone to talk to and hang out with. It kinda makes me nervous, because this is the sort of thing I'm going to be doing for most of Christmas break, I just hope I can handle doing it for three weeks or so.
In any case, I brought back a supply of jam, chocolates, and beer. I probably should go to sleep so I can go to class in the morning…Peace.
posted by Adrian's Fabulous Name Goes Here at 2:39 AM
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