Fish 'n' Chips: My Journey Across the Atlantic: Brussels

This trip account begins with a sad sad story of a girl who traveled for 12 straight hours before arriving in the comforting embrace of her friends in Brussels...

I left campus on Wednesday around 11am to get to town and grab a coffee before my train to Manchester departed at 12:30. Got off at the correct stop (I give myself a small pat on the back each time I manage to do this with public transportation) and arrived at Manchester Airport with plenty of time to spare before my 4:45 flight. After walking around for an indefinitely long period of time, found my gate and the airport bar, still with plenty of time to spare. Slowly enjoyed my outrageously overpriced glass of wine while reading my book and waiting for the terminal to open. Then 4:45 came, and the flight was delayed another 2 hours. Awesome. The Duty Free shop can only occupy one's attention for so long.

But I got on the plane and made it to Brussels around 7:30, where I quickly learned that (despite my ignorant wishes) little English is spoken or posted. Ughhh. But I somehow I managed to get on a train from there and make it to Brussels-Centrale (cue pat on the back), where I figured I could easily ask for directions to the apartment we'd be staying at.

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

Well, not so wrong at first, because a very nice, but confused, train ticketer printed me out a map that pointed me in vaguely the right direction. So I set off optimistic and excited to finally see my Boise friends. About 2 streets later I was already lost, but was stopped by a very nice couple that asked if I needed help. Yes please. However they also couldn't decipher the undecipherable map I'd been given. No problem, I thought, I'll just keep walking until I find a place for better directions.

At this point I will mention that, apart from the street and address of this place, I was given no information other than it should only be about a 500m walk away from the train station. One would assume that an address so close would be reasonable to find...but keep reading...

My next stop was a Marriott hotel (still within a reasonable distance from the station). I figured I couldn't go wrong there, plus they'd have maps and maybe a little bit of English to offer me. The woman at the front desk was very nice (again) and looked up the address I'd printed down, then proceeded to give me detailed directions to the street I was looking for...except that after another 20 minutes of walking according to her directions, I was still lost, and definitely a ways away from the train station.

Cue direction intervention #4. I found an English pub in the vicinity of Marriott lady's directions, and figured they'd know the street if it was anywhere near...they didn't. But another very nice (this really is the way to describe them all) English woman with smoky dragon breath did her best to help, and since it was getting a bit late, made the suggestion that I keep to asking females for further directions. Great. So I walk down ANOTHER infinitely long street, in what I scarcely had faith was in the correct direction, only to pass about 8 H&M's and 20 McDonald's with no sign of "Apartment 15, Rue Henri Maus".

I won't lie, I was feeling fairly helpless at that point (if I hadn't already). My backpack was heavy, it had started snowing, I was terribly hungry, and, as I stopped and adjusted to put on my little red mittens, dropped my handful of directions in the snow. Poor Shelby.

I spotted a Sheraton hotel at the end of the street, and continued my routine of looking helpless and American as I politely asked the concierge for directions. We're at direction intervention #5. It was here I was informed that I had been going in absolutely the wrong direction all along, and was now an hours walking distance away from where I wanted to be. :( They offered to call a cab for me, and I politely declined. Considering I'd been given incorrect directions all night, I wasn't going to pay for a cab to the opposite side of the city until I'd gotten a second (or third) opinion.

After walking out, I had a brief breakdown moment where I squeezed out a tear or two in my state of self pity, then quickly pulled myself back together realizing that, despite my conquest so far, continuing to ask for directions was the only way I was getting a bed to sleep in that night. Cue #6. A man at a sketchy looking hotel across the street from the Sheraton FINALLY pulled out a city map and showed me the ACTUAL street I was looking for. Hallelujah. And guess what...it was only a 10 minute walk away... knew it. My spirits were up again, and as I found the street (generous amounts of back-patting) I look across the intersection to see none other than the original Marriott that I asked directions from. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET!!! I could walk out the doors, and SEE MY STREET from their sidewalk. Pricks.

It was about 10:30pm at this point, and to speed the rest of this up, it was another half an hour (and me asking 3 more people for directions) before I found the actual apartment along the street. After passing it half a dozen time, I finally realized that some tiny door was the entrance to our 2nd floor apartment. As I approached, I saw a sign taped to it that read "SHELBY!!! If you're reading this sign you've made it to the right place!". Oh my lord. I cannot describe the wave of relief and joy that washed over my freezing, exhausted body. I bounded up the stairs and knocked on the door, to have it immediately torn open and met with cries of relief and warm friendly embraces.

Turns out they'd already been looking for me earlier, and had just been buttoning up their coats to go out again as I knocked. Later we laughed as we drank some much-needed pints and I pulled out my ridiculous collection of misleading maps and directions scribbled in illegible french.

The remainder of the trip was amazing, and needless to say, went much smoother. On Thursday we wandered around Brussels for a couple of hours or so before deciding to call it good and relax at a local pub for the afternoon. Then, considering our apartment had a fully equipped kitchen, we figured it 'd be prudent to have our best go at a Thanksgiving meal--which actually turned out quite well and made us all thankful to be spending a unique and special thanksgiving among friends in such an amazing city.

Friday was more of the same. We made our way over to the EU headquarters (or whatever you call them, haha) where we were greeted with a closed visitors center and hostile-looking security people. Oh well. We spent time around the little shops and Christmas booths that had been set up in the center of town, gorged ourselves on delicious chocolates and Belgian waffles and frites, and enjoyed a quiet evening in the comfort of our cozy apartment. (Compared to London, it was a world of difference to be sightseeing and spending time with good friends from home. This is surely the reason I enjoyed Brussels so much, as the company made for a wonderfully relaxing and memorable final trip).

Saturday we were up early early to catch a train to Amsterdam for the day--which I was ok with because we'd discovered a drip coffee machine in our abode, HEAVEN. In Amsterdam, we walked out of the train station to snow! The first I'd seen since being across the pond. This led Hannah, Ally, and I to stop at the nearest souvenir shop and purchase matching 'Amsterdam' hats to keep us warm. This by far turned out to be the best decision we'd made all day, as I thoroughly enjoyed the looks we were getting as we strolled down the streets (not to mention that our spectacle deterred any suave, horny European boys from approaching us all day). We took pictures in front of the 'I AMSTERDAM' sign, toured the Ann Frank House (which I'd not previously realized was in Amsterdam) and also attended the Heineken Brewery Experience. It was a long day, in an INCREDIBLY busy city, and we were happy to be on the train heading back around 9pm.

Sunday morning the four of them (Hannah, Ally, Aldis, and Matt--don't think I mentioned who I'd actually been staying with before) left before 7am to catch their flight back to Florence, and I slept in and checked out myself around 11am. The Marriott redeemed themselves by allowing me to check my bag at their front desk for the day, while I finished up last minute errands and waffle-eating:) Unfortunately, that didn't last too long, and I was left to kill time before my 8:55pm flight out of Brussels. Drag. Double drag without friends to do fun things with. Ughhh.

Got to the airport, killed more time, continued to resent the Amsterdam airport for their stupid 5 euro Starbucks coffee...only to wait a little longer since my flight was delayed. Ughhhhhh. Had the noisiest plane ride ever, interrupted by stewardesses trying to offer me expensive sandwiches and perfume to purchase, and arrived in Manchester around 10:30pm. I then waited in the freezing bus wing (there weren't seats anywhere else) until 12:45am when the bus arrived that would take me back to Lancaster. Got to Lancaster at 2:45 to take a taxi back to campus and arrive back home, finally, around 3am.

Long trip and lots of traveling, but absolutely worth it for the chance to experience another great European city and spend some priceless time with friends from home. And what a way to end! That's the last trip for Shelby, now starting the countdown to only 20 days until I'm back in Boise!! Mind you, 20 days full of frantic creative writing and essay composing, but no worries, I'm not an English major for nothing;)

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!! Wishing you lots of love.