Brussels
We had better luck getting to Brussels, making an earlier train that we expected. And the train ride was rather uneventful, at least until we got to the Brussels-Nord Station. Turns out that there’s a Red Light District in Brussels too – and it is right outside of the train station, so you have the full opportunity to view the merchandise before you get off the train. Luckily, Brussels-Nord was not our stop!
Turns out our hotel was just a block away from the Brussels Train Station and we were ready to hit the city in no time. But first, lunch. Boy was that a mess! It turns out that there are fewer people who speak English in Brussels than in any other city we’ve visited. And unlike Paris, where Spanish got us by in a pinch, there was no way to communicate with people unless we spoke French or Dutch. I must admit that this was kind of surprising to me, given the fact that Brussels is the seat of the European Union. Nonetheless, I was happy to go along with it – I knew going into this trip that there would be language barriers. I just didn’t expect that we would insult a poor Belgian restaurantaur in the process.
Because we couldn’t really decipher any of the menus, we just picked a place to eat that seemed to have other people there. When we tried to talk to the waitress about what to order, we soon realized that there was no way we were going to understand each other. So she took to showing us her cuisine – which consisted of a head of cauliflower and a bowl of shrimp. Now, this posed two problems – first, cauliflower is the only vegetable that J. doesn’t eat (and really, neither one of us are that picky) and she is deathly allergic to shrimp. Unfortunately, neither one of those sentiments translated particularly well nor was there anything else on the menu, so we were forced to go elsewhere. And boy, did we get the evil eye when we left! You could practically hear her cursing us out as we left. And it wouldn’t be the only time in Belgium that we were treated rudely for not speaking French or Dutch.
(Side note: when I was stuck in my airport hotel, one of the clerks was pretty rude to me until she realized I spoke Spanish – then, she was all sorts of nice. She spoke English but seemed annoyed to have to speak it with me. I don’t know if the Spanish made her happy because it was her first language, as I later learned, or if she was just happy I didn’t just speak English? Either way, Brussels was the one place where I encountered rudeness just for speaking English. But it didn’t happen even once in Paris.)
Luckily, we found a Greek restaurant with a lovely proprietress and, as a bonus, a menu in English (seriously, we would have happily just guessed and ate whatever it was, but it was nice to know what we were ordering). So after a very filling lunch of Greek specialties, it was off to the Museum of Chocolate and Cocoa! Now that’s my kind of museum! We got to sample some tasty morsels, learned a little about the chocolate making process, and got a good laugh when the famous wall of chocolate quotes included Forrest Gump. And as it turns out, we were right next to Brussels large Grote Markt, which was a beautiful square filled with shops (more chocolate shops in one place that I could even imagine – this must be what heaven looks like), restaurants, and lots and lots of chocolate! It was the perfect place to while away a lazy afternoon, which is exactly what we did!
After a brief rest in the hotel, we decided to hit the town. After all, it was a Friday night and there was no World Cup to keep us busy. So we headed out for a late dinner (at one of the million Italian restaurants that seem to be all over Europe – the only true “Belgian” cuisine is the waffles and mussels, neither or which works well for dinner, especially if one of you is allergic to shellfish). That’s where we made friends with Jack and Ann, a couple who lived in Southern England and had travelled extensively through both Europe and parts of the U.S. They were a really fun couple, telling us all sorts of funny things about England, giving us advice about visiting Bruges the following day, and generally being lovely dinner companions. Plus, they came in really handy when I had to explain that I knocked over the ashtray on our table not because I had drank too much wine (our waiter seemed to believe that we could not handle our alcohol), but because the table was approximately a foot square and there wasn’t room for everything on it!
Walking around the square after dinner was a lot of fun! It was pulsating with the energy of everyone walking about and it was really funny to walk by the bars and hear bad American music coming at you from every direction. The Europeans sure do love their Michael Jackson! It was especially neat to be walking around in a place as historic as the Grote Markt yet still so contemporary. But alas, Eurotrash discotechs aren’t exactly my style, so after enjoying the scenery, it was back to get ready for a morning trip to Bruges.
Turns out our hotel was just a block away from the Brussels Train Station and we were ready to hit the city in no time. But first, lunch. Boy was that a mess! It turns out that there are fewer people who speak English in Brussels than in any other city we’ve visited. And unlike Paris, where Spanish got us by in a pinch, there was no way to communicate with people unless we spoke French or Dutch. I must admit that this was kind of surprising to me, given the fact that Brussels is the seat of the European Union. Nonetheless, I was happy to go along with it – I knew going into this trip that there would be language barriers. I just didn’t expect that we would insult a poor Belgian restaurantaur in the process.
Because we couldn’t really decipher any of the menus, we just picked a place to eat that seemed to have other people there. When we tried to talk to the waitress about what to order, we soon realized that there was no way we were going to understand each other. So she took to showing us her cuisine – which consisted of a head of cauliflower and a bowl of shrimp. Now, this posed two problems – first, cauliflower is the only vegetable that J. doesn’t eat (and really, neither one of us are that picky) and she is deathly allergic to shrimp. Unfortunately, neither one of those sentiments translated particularly well nor was there anything else on the menu, so we were forced to go elsewhere. And boy, did we get the evil eye when we left! You could practically hear her cursing us out as we left. And it wouldn’t be the only time in Belgium that we were treated rudely for not speaking French or Dutch.
(Side note: when I was stuck in my airport hotel, one of the clerks was pretty rude to me until she realized I spoke Spanish – then, she was all sorts of nice. She spoke English but seemed annoyed to have to speak it with me. I don’t know if the Spanish made her happy because it was her first language, as I later learned, or if she was just happy I didn’t just speak English? Either way, Brussels was the one place where I encountered rudeness just for speaking English. But it didn’t happen even once in Paris.)
Luckily, we found a Greek restaurant with a lovely proprietress and, as a bonus, a menu in English (seriously, we would have happily just guessed and ate whatever it was, but it was nice to know what we were ordering). So after a very filling lunch of Greek specialties, it was off to the Museum of Chocolate and Cocoa! Now that’s my kind of museum! We got to sample some tasty morsels, learned a little about the chocolate making process, and got a good laugh when the famous wall of chocolate quotes included Forrest Gump. And as it turns out, we were right next to Brussels large Grote Markt, which was a beautiful square filled with shops (more chocolate shops in one place that I could even imagine – this must be what heaven looks like), restaurants, and lots and lots of chocolate! It was the perfect place to while away a lazy afternoon, which is exactly what we did!
After a brief rest in the hotel, we decided to hit the town. After all, it was a Friday night and there was no World Cup to keep us busy. So we headed out for a late dinner (at one of the million Italian restaurants that seem to be all over Europe – the only true “Belgian” cuisine is the waffles and mussels, neither or which works well for dinner, especially if one of you is allergic to shellfish). That’s where we made friends with Jack and Ann, a couple who lived in Southern England and had travelled extensively through both Europe and parts of the U.S. They were a really fun couple, telling us all sorts of funny things about England, giving us advice about visiting Bruges the following day, and generally being lovely dinner companions. Plus, they came in really handy when I had to explain that I knocked over the ashtray on our table not because I had drank too much wine (our waiter seemed to believe that we could not handle our alcohol), but because the table was approximately a foot square and there wasn’t room for everything on it!
Walking around the square after dinner was a lot of fun! It was pulsating with the energy of everyone walking about and it was really funny to walk by the bars and hear bad American music coming at you from every direction. The Europeans sure do love their Michael Jackson! It was especially neat to be walking around in a place as historic as the Grote Markt yet still so contemporary. But alas, Eurotrash discotechs aren’t exactly my style, so after enjoying the scenery, it was back to get ready for a morning trip to Bruges.
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