Leaving the US - I packed my car and had the vague feeling that I was forgetting something. I unlocked the front door and peered in. Oh yes, the newspaper. I grabbed it and was on my way. It was only later at the airport that I realized that it wasn't only the newspaper I had forgotten. I was on my way to Brussels and London with no coat. Arrival in Brussels, the First Day
I breezed through customs, didn't even have to fill out one of those incomprehensible little forms designed to make you feel like you are doing something criminal even if you don't exactly know what. I ask for directions to the Gallery of Lights (the plan is that I get my luggage and meet Joe there) and look around for an escalator or staircase to the upper floor. Instead, I see Joe waiting for me. That was a wonderful surprise. His earlier flight ended up arriving around the same time, so he had come over to my gate to wait for me. Not only that, but on his way over he found the train AND bought tickets. What a guy. With a warm glow, I know that this is going to be as good as the last trip.
We hopped onto the train, got off at the Gare du Midi (Zuidstation), hopped on the metro and headed to Avenue Louise, dragged our luggage more blocks over cobblestones than was meant by the wheel manufacturers, to our hotel. We only had to ask directions once to our street and it turns out we were standing in front of it. Not only was Rue Veydt unmarked, but it was also blocked. Hotel de Boeck's was a few blocks down. We found this hotel by searching the Internet and booking on-line. The clerk checked us in even though it was still quite early in the morning. 
Hotel de Boeck's lobby is elegant-sort of a tattered comfortable elegance rather than fancy elegance. Our room is adequate but the bed looks rather droopy. However the shower washed my stereotype of European water pressure right down the drain. It took me a while to get out of what felt like a warm rainforest storm. Only guilt of using every bit of hot water in the entire hotel convinced me to move. The towel was a bit of a surprise though-it was the size of a place mat-I had to dab myself dry.
The hotel clerk pointed us in the general direction of Grand Place, the tourist center of Brussels for lunch and gave us rudimentary directions. On the way, we stopped in Inno's, a department store to look for a coat for me. Despite the sun, I was freezing. They had one very smart and trendy coat for 9,000 bf. Fortunately not in my size or I would have been tempted to spend over $200 for a coat that I didn't need. I decided to freeze although Joe nicely offered his coat. It turns out that Avenue Louise is the "5th Avenue" of Brussels. Nice, but I was looking for the Walmart district.
From there we got completely lost but somehow followed signs and managed to find Grand Place. We also managed to find Rue de Boucher, a very narrow cobblestone street with restaurant after restaurant after restaurant. Some have seafood on ice sitting outside. All have hawkers who try to convince you to eat in their restaurant. We grabbed a table in the sun at a restaurant that serves huge buckets of mussels - a Belgian specialty. We order the special, which included Stella Artois (the Belgium equivalent of Budweiser), tomatoes stuffed with mayonnaise and slugs (okay shrimp, but they looked like tiny pink larva), pommes frites (Belgium is FAMOUS for these), and a bucket of mussels. I should mention here that food in this city is NOT cheap. Then came the usual struggle-I can't remember, do we tip here? Yes, no? How much? I finally leave a 10% tip and hope that if I pass this restaurant ever again I don't get shot. After lunch we wandered around a bit more and and stopped by Donday's for waffles (it turns out that Donday's is well known for its biscuits…) and café.
From there, we stumbled home for a nap and to meet a work friend Jennifer who was joining us at the same hotel. It turns out that she has an extra coat - so I'm set for the rest of my stay not to mention warm and totally grateful. She suggested going to dinner at a very chi chi part of town where the EU young adults hang out in the evenings. I check out the map (I'm not leaving without my map any more. In my way of thinking, pretty buildings are not even worth looking at unless I know what they are. And I like to know exactly where I am at all times…) and announce that the area is only a short ways a way - we could easily walk it.
We arrive at the bar 1 hour later. It was completely empty. I guess we are early by Brussel's time. Of course according to my internal clock it's 2 a.m. and way passed dinnertime not to mention bed time as far as my body is concerned. The restaurant her friend told her about does not seem to exist, so we wander the streets. We don't want American pizza, we don't want Chinese, we finally find a little dark Italian place that suits our taste. I had smoked salmon for an appetizer, Moulin Rouge (a fish dish) for the entrée, and Sayblon (warm whipped egg with sugar and white wine) for dessert along with the obligatory bottle of wine. Did I mention food was expensive in Brussels yet?
We try the pub again. It is still devoid of the chi chi EU young adult crowd, but there are some locals. This time we stay for a few drinks and plan our adventures for the next day. This time we catch a cab and in a few minutes we are back at the hotel.  Day 2, Exploring BrusselsMarch 9, 2001
I slept like a log. Despite the rather lumpy appearance of the bed, I didn't notice a single lump once I dropped into it. And by the state of my back, I would guess the lumps were few and far between - I feel fine. Except for my knees that is. Cobblestones took a toll on them the day before even though I was in comfortable shoes. I feel like an old woman. Nonetheless, I set my usual vacation clock and was up and raring to go at 7:30 in the morning. No sleeping in when there are places to explore! We grabbed breakfast, which was absolutely nothing to write home about. I guess when you go for cheap with lots of character in Brussels, you forgo a memorable breakfast.
Our guidebook (we depended heavily on the Dorling Kindersley Travel Guides: Brussels, Bruges, Ghent, & Antwerp, though Jenn supplemented this with the Rough Guide for Belgium) suggested a Sunday market at the Gare du Midi and that's where we started. THIS was a market. It was endless. Fresh fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meat, olives (oh, the smell, my mouth watered), pastries, plants, flowers, clothes, purses, lace, material, toothpaste, knick knacks. We could have wandered for hours without repeating an aisle. After we had our fill of market, we find a pommes frites place in the station and indulge in fries with mayonnaise. One sauce is curry and we use the fries as a scoop. American ketchup has nothing on this. 
We hop on a tram and head up to the bourse. Transportation is easy in this city-well marked and convenient. Our first stop is to get pictures of the church of St. Nicolas then it's back over to Grand Place for more pictures. Joe takes out his camera and is accosted by three young girls who beg for him to take their picture. As soon as he finishes, they run off to the next camera- bearing tourist. They thought it was of utmost hilarity to jump into other people's pictures. We did too and snapped several pictures of them.
In one corner we find the Musee de Chocolat. Inside we learn all about the history of chocolate while munching biscuits that we dunked in fresh chocolate (I had to with hold myself from dunking mine up to my elbow), which we washed down with hot chocolate that was just one smidgen away from being pure syrup. Belgian Chocolate. Heaven. 
We wandered through the Gallery -- an old indoor shopping mall, and back out to Rue de Boucher to show Jenn what we had found the day before. But at that street, I went the opposite direction this time, in search of Jeaneke Pis, the older sister of the famous Manneke Pis. I think we found her in a courtyard across the street from the end of Rue de Boucher. But there was no water so we couldn't watch her pee, so we couldn't be sure if it was actually she.
Our sites from there include Cathedrale Sts. Michel and Gudule, Everard't Surclaes (we stroked his arm about 4 times over the two days - we should have plenty of extra luck at this point), Manneke Pis (a famous Belgian statue of a young boy peeing that has taken on international infamy). At one point a man with an English accent walked up to us and said, "You speak something that resembles English. Do you know where I can put this card in the wall?" We laughed and pointed him to a bank machine we had just hit ourselves.
At Manneke Pis we turned the wrong direction (remember, I hold the map, in this day of wandering any which way, I still know the right way from the wrong way!!!) and end up at the Notre Dame de something or other (probably lost souls like ourselves). It's not in our guide books but we decide to be adventurous and go in anyway. 
Once I get situated, we head off in the correct direction, toward a little lace factory that I had discovered on the Internet that came with a handy 10% off coupon. On the way there, we came across the Place du Grand Sablon and sat outside for lunch. It was warm and sunny, the perfect place to rest. Joe and I had stumbled through this the day before but of course had no clue where we were. I had a wonderful lambic beer made from local wild cherries.
We find the lace factory on a side street and Jenn and I spend time checking out the lace. (Joe apparently found it a bit frilly for his taste and after a brief look, waits outside). I add to my souvenirs (I had already bought the obligatory Manneke Pis key chain for my little sister) of lace booties for my friend Amy's new baby, a bookmark for my mom, and a little lace breadbasket for myself.
From there we take Jenn by Place du Petit Sablon which Joe and I had also come across the day before. It was full of tulips, red and an unusual purple pink. There are mountains of them and they are in perfect form. We take lots of pictures. We took pictures the day before too. But then we didn't know what we were doing and just lucked out that we took pictures in a garden that turned out to be important enough for a guidebook.
We walked by the Musee de Royale Beaux Arts and decided to pop in for an hour (it was near closing time at this point). We ran down to the Magritte Gallery in the modern wing and the Rubens exhibit in the ancient art wing. At closing time, despite our exhaustion, we decide to stroll through the Parc du Bruxelles just up the street. The gardens were a ripped up mess - apparently undergoing major renovation so we quickly left. We were too tired to walk another step so we caught a tram. We had correct change in hand as we boarded but realized we were supposed to have a little card, not change. No one said anything but we felt so utterly guilty with our change clutched in our hands that we got off before our stop and dragged ourselves back to the hotel.
We were too tired to do anything adventurous for dinner, so we decided to try out a restaurant a few buildings down from our hotel. It was called Amadeus and Jenn discovered it in a guidebook, otherwise we would never have even noticed that is was there. It was once the studio of Auguste Rodin and was dark but filled with candles and mirrors making it very romantic. We weren't romantic, we were grimy and tired. They stuck us in a corner. I had vegetable soup, sole, and the requisite bottle of wine. We all split a banana mousse for dessert. And we made plans for the next day - Bruges.
Day 3, Bruges
I slept like a log again and this time remembered to turn off the internal vacation alarm. When the external alarm went off at 6:30, I had no idea what it was, but it scared me wide awake. At the train station it took us a bit to figure out the train system. We even tried to buy tickets but were told to buy them on the train. We eventually found the right tracks and hopped on the train moments before the doors shut. We sat down and prepared for a two hour ride (we actually didn't know how long it took, but we guessed about 2 hours). We took out books, stretched out, and got comfortable. I happened looked up at a stop not much later and the sign said "Brugges". I woke up Joe (he wasn't sleeping like a log every night, he was sleeping like an owl), we crammed stuff into our bags and ran off the train. The ride was so short that in less than 24 hours, we were criminals for the second time-the porter never even made it to our car.
We took a quick bus ride into the downtown hopping off just down the street from an enormous church - Church of Our Lady - that took 200 years to build and has the highest spire in Belgium. We pretty much wandered around enjoying the charm of the city-first hitting the market, then the burg - all the while snapping pictures of the beautiful buildings. This is a wonderful little town. In the burg there is a church called the Basilica of the Holy Blood, the most sacred church in Belgium because it holds the actual blood of Christ. I convince Jenn to walk up to the altar with me and check it out. Others bow or make a cross, or even kiss the cylinder. I just stare at it with a touch of disgust. It looks like a blood soaked piece of gauze to me - apparently it rejuvenates itself every Friday and it looked just like you would expect of a gauze strip sopped in 4 day old blood. Okay, I admit, I'm not that religious… 
From there we stroll through the Blind Donkey's Alley to a fish market (open every day but the day we were there of course). But we find a boat tour through the canals in the city. Definitely a must do. We pass under wonderful old bridges, snap pictures of the quaint architecture, and listen to stories of the city in French, Dutch, and English.
We wandered back into the market for lunch. I had a cheese on baguette sandwich and a local beer - Brugues Tripel, which is pretty strong. I could feel it going to my head and when it hit my nose, I started to giggle. Joe had 2 and it definitely went to his head.
We spent the afternoon exploring the bathrooms of Bruges and every time we sat down, Joe had a little nap. We found a patisserie and I bought a tarte de casa with cherries. It was covered with powdered sugar. I discovered after my first bite that breathing was hazardous to eating. I coughed sugar all over myself. So I warned Joe NOT to breath on his first bite. He leaned over, took a huge mouthful, and coughed sugar all over me. I was white from head to toe. I laughed so hard that it was time to explore yet another Bruges bathroom. We headed into the northeast following canals, supposedly filled with wonderful architecture and windmills. But we had to abort our mission because this part of town was residential and we were unable to find bathrooms. We didn't think the locals would appreciate slightly tipsy tourists requesting to use their facilities… 
We passed back through town through quaint shops. We found a lace baby outfit for another friend. We even found a candy store filled with delicious marzipan that we couldn't pass up. From there we headed into the southern end of town (called Minnewater) and spent some time in Begijnhof - built for an order of lay sisters who could return to the real world whenever they wanted because they didn't take vows. I was impressed that there were such places in those days for independent women. Benedictine nuns now live there. We sat and rested at the Minnewater , a park with a lake with swans, and ducks. Joe had another nap.
We also popped into an old brewery called the Half Moon. We were too tired for the tour, but we weren't too tired to try the brewery's beer. Joe fell asleep in the middle of his. Since we were once again exhausted from all our walking (and drinking), we took a taxi back to the train station, bought tickets, and headed back to Brussels.
At the hotel, Joe and I split a bottle of champagne to celebrate our trip which was so far successful. Then we headed out in search of an internet café. We had not seen a single internet café so far and were rather astonished. Jenn needed one to check her emails and let her folks know that she had arrived safely. Joe just wanted to keep his emails under a couple hundred so he wouldn't be so overwhelmed when he got home. Jenn found something that looked like it MIGHT be one by reading the entire yellow pages for the city. As we headed for it, we rounded the corner, and right there on the street that we passed at least twice a day was an Internet place. So much for our astute powers of observation. 
Jenn bowed out of dinner (probably just a little tired of hanging out with two tipsy tourists). We had already made plans for the next day - Waterloo. Joe and I headed across the street to a little Thai restaurant that had some of the best Thai food we had ever eaten. Unfortunately, it was so spicy that I had bizarre nightmares all night - one of which included Joe cheating on me. I woke up mad at him.
Day 4, Off to Waterloo
After breakfast we check out of our hotel (tonight, the business trip portion of the trip starts and we have to switch to another hotel). On our way to the train station, we run into another business colleague who is staying at a fancier hotel right around the corner. Our business apparently uses this hotel extensively so employees get a special rate. So much for our trying to be cheap…
We hop onto the Metro and transfer onto the tram like we are locals. Except we were going in the wrong direction. We hop off and get back on heading the right direction and get off at the right stop (Jenn's book tells us that the W bus stops on a little square north of the train station) and head for the bus. On our way, we spot a little street market that we can't resist checking out before we head off in the wrong direction. While going in the wrong direction, we look for a bank machine. In Belgium, there are two kinds of bank machines, those that are open but won't take your card, and those that are closed that will take your card. We get turned around once again and finally find the square we are looking for. But no bus and no sign for the bus. I ask someone official looking where to catch the bus and he tells me the bus leaves from the train station we had just come from. This time, we walk back to the station. Jenn announces that this is not a very nice section of town. For being a not very nice section it is actually quite nice. In New York City you also often don't know whether you are in a nice section or not-and those sections, nice or not, often don't look as nice as this. Once in the station, we separate and search for a bank machine. There are none in the station. None, I asked.
But while there of course we have to stop at our favorite pommes frites stand to get our fries with curry sauce. It's so good that we stay for a second round. The second time, the server first looks at us quizzically then laughs and heaps on the fries. We ate until we were shiny with grease. Joe went off to change money (how old fashioned, but we were really short on cash) and came back with train tickets to Waterloo. We stopped off at another internet place (suddenly, Brussels was crawling with them), bought icecream to calm our greasy queasy stomachs, and headed up to our train. At last, we were on our way, two and a half hours after originally embarking on our trip to Waterloo!
Twenty minutes later we were there. We wander into town and find the Waterloo museum, which is quite nice. It covers Waterloo from ancient times until today. And of course it has an in-depth description of the battle - hour by hour. It also happens to have the artificial leg of Lord Uxbridge. His leg was blown off during a cannon battle and buried in Waterloo. After his death many years later, the leg was unearthed and interred with his body. His artificial leg was sent down as an exchange. 
From there, we waited for the bus we had tried to take from Brussels in the first place to go to the battlefield and the Butte de Lion. We, of course, had no clue where to get off the bus. The bus driver some how fathomed where we were going and stopped the bus of his own accord and waved us off. At first, we speculated that he told us to get off the bus in the middle of nowhere to have a good laugh. But we soon saw a small sign across the street pointing us in the direction of the battlefield. It gave no indication of how far it was from that corner, so we prepared for a long trek.
We rounded the corner and saw the butt of the lion…literally. The lion is on top of a butte, but from our angle, we very clearly were viewing the backside. We took pictures, wandered around the souvenir shop (souvenir shops are pretty much a global entity at this point, they are all astonishingly similar), wandered around the parking lot until we could get pictures from the front of the lion and ran smack into a bit of American capitalist tourism. There, ruining our pictures was a miniature golf course - thankfully minus the blue water and the hippos. We snapped a few pictures and went back to our bus stop. 
This time we took the bus all the way back to Brussels, looked for money one more time (and decided we didn't need any now), looked for a chocolate store and found a Neuhaus on our corner and added large quantities of Belgian chocolate to our souvenir bags. We headed back to our hotel, picked up our luggage, and hopped into a taxi for the Chateau du Lac and our business meeting. The taxi headed south, and south, and south. Suddenly we saw signs for Waterloo. We were back near where we spent the day.
Our taxi dropped us off at the chateau in front of a beautiful property with a lake. Once we checked in, Jenn and I discovered that everyone was waiting for us. We didn't know that because our itineraries were in envelopes waiting for us at check in. Our vacation was officially over. Joe had to check in and out of a couple of rooms so I had no idea where I was sleeping. But when I finally got to the room after the quick business meeting, Joe had unpacked my suitcase, plugged in my computer, and had a terry cloth robe, slippers, strawberry glace, chocolate, and a single malt whiskey waiting for me. Joe tiptoed out the next morning, giving me a quick kiss before catching a taxi back to the airport. Another wonderful vacation, same wonderful guy.
Please sign our guest book so that we know you've been here. After you've filled in your comments, you can read what others have written, too! Note: All pictures were taken on location. - Joe and Valerie (aka Harry and Sally) |