The Hostel American's Excursion Part III (In Brussels, not in Bruges)

Well, I'm back.

Okay, it's been a long time, and an eventful time, which I haven't been recording. For this I apologize. I promise I'll do my best to recap what's been up here, before I leave...on Saturday. Which is incredibly soon.

I'll even include a poignant reflection on the Extraordinary Experience. You'll cry. It'll be beautiful.

But for now, where did I leave off? Ah, yes...Centraal Station, ready to go to Brussels.

I had such plans for Belgium! I was going to catch a train to Bruges for my first night and have a shootout in a marketplace. (Well, I was going to see the clocktower, anyway) I was going to talk in an Irish accent and compare the place to a fairytale and drink normal beer because I'm a normal person. And then I was going to go to Brussels.

By the way, if you haven't seen In Bruges, it's a fabulous film. About assassins. In Bruges.

Okay, so, anyway, that didn't work out. It didn't work out because when I arrived at Centraal Station, and asked the Station Information Station where my train to Belgium was, they told me that there were absolutely no trains going to Belgium. None. Rail strike. Thank you.

When the others arrived, I told them the bad news, and we waited in a Ben and Jerry's with internet access, while WunderVaughn (he always seems to have the answers, save the day, be the best- it's most obnoxious) looked up how we could possibly get to Brussels without the aide of a train. WunderVaughn went to the ticket office on the Damrak, while we three girls sat awkwardly, hungover (them), and read. He came back to tell us that if we act fast and get a train to Amstel Station, from there we might be able to join a bus headed to Brussels. We did so. It was all very stressful, uncomfortable, and exhausting.

I must say though, despite everything, I was rather glad that MFAs (specifically WunderVaughn) were with me that day, because I would have been at a total loss. I would have spent another night in Amsterdam, and spent a fortune getting another train ticket to spend one night in Brussels, only to catch an early plane the next morning. I shudder to think...

And so we arrived in Brussels, late in the evening. We walked from the station (through a neighborhood described as "dangerous"...thanks, Bus Driver!) to the hostel where we were apparently all staying. This was a coincidence, but not entirely unpleasant. I joined them in a private 4-person room, went out to dinner with them, and stayed back in a quiet, empty room (a nice change of pace) when they went out drinking.

The hostel was nice. While High Street Hostel in Edinburgh had two lounges, and St. Christopher's in Amsterdam had a noisy, social bar, the 2Go4 Quality had a lobby, complete with computers with free internet access- that was closed from 10 p.m. to 9 p.m. Most inconvenient. But it was clean, efficient, friendly, and helpful. I only wish I had gotten to meet more people, besides that chatty Brazilian guy and the Scotsman who invited us to dinner. I even had to decline that because of MFAs. Lame.

So, the next morning I woke up early, put on my hat (an awesome one that I bought in Amsterdam) and set out to do the best thing you could possibly do in Brussels: The Rene Magritte Museum.

I love Magritte. I always have. For those of you who are art-ignorant, Magritte was a Belgian surrealist known for his paintings that employ clever wordplay, puzzling imagery, and symbols. His most famous works are "Son of Man" (man in a bowler hat, with an apple blocking his face, you know?) and "La Trahison des Images" ("Ceci n'est pas une pipe" meaning "This is not a pipe" under a picture of a pipe...funny, right?) The museum was very impressive, new, and comprehensive, charting the development of his career from his early impressionist phase straight into the surrealism that came to define his role in art history. Unfortunately, I did not spring for the 6 euro audioguide, which was a big mistake, since I don't speak French, and Magritte is one artist that definitely improves when you know the whole story behind the works. Still, I did my best, and there were some great pieces to analyze, including the very beautiful "Le Retour," (pictured) one of my favorites, and "L'Empire des lumières," which is my ichat background.

After the Magritte museum, I walked around the Musées Royaux de Bruxelles, which had some pretty cool stuff. I got lost going back to the hostel, which was exactly my plan. I sought out the statue of the little man peeing (charmingly called "Manneken Pis," Dutch for "little man peeing"), the grand palace, the Koningstraat and Rue Royale, and the Cathedral. And then I found out that I was broke, so I went back to the Hostel. After meeting the Brazilian guy and the Scottish guy, I went out to dinner with MFAs again, and then we rented a movie (The Royal Tenenbaums) and they hid a wig in my bed.

I left the next morning for the airport.

Flying over London, I could see the Thames, and all the famous Thames landmarks, including St. Paul's (I think, anyway), Tower Bridge, Big Ben, the Eye, and Houses of Parliament. These things made me very happy, and I was at that moment very happy to be back on my little island. Especially since the roommates were all still travelling. Heh.

I had a good time on the excursion. It was fun to meet so many people, and reaffirm my own sociability, since I'm such a hermit back at the school.

Interesting side note- they all just got back from the union, and from what I hear, they're way drunk. What a life.

Okay, back to the self-important reflection. I enjoyed the cities, Edinburgh especially, and despite the reaction I've gotten from most people when I say I went to Brussels ("Really? Gross. Brussels is the worst.") I did like it there, as well, with its Euro-hodgepodginess and the huge number of people that asked me for directions in French (I look European! That's the dream!) And with the exception of the snooty woman at the awesome hat shop, and the mean train station attendant, everyone was pretty friendly and not at all "uppity." Still, I would have liked to have seen Bruges. Next time, maybe.

Next time I'll get to see Bruges instead of Brussels, and Berlin instead of Munich. And I'll have better people to accompany me. And I won't have to worry about papers or budgets (so much...okay, maybe more...). But still, it was definitely a worthwhile adventure.

Also, I told KC I'd mention it...so...the two names I have picked out for any potential sons are Wallace and Edmund ("Ned"). Thoughts? Didn't think so. Carry on.

Next up...and very soon...I'll talk about my Mom and Gus (not Joe) coming to visit me with a gang of lawyers, judges, and retired radio personalities! London can be a very fun city when you're a suddenly a tourist again, and Mom is footing the bill. After that, I'll recount my last couple weeks here, including papers, Christmas shopping, Mikey, and packing...ugh, packing.

But for now, I must sleep. Tomorrow I have my last class here ever...and then I'm going to Notting Hill. Hooray! And I promise to return soon!