Brussels, Abridged

Alright, be forewarned, this is rather long :P

Day 1:

Well, my maiden solo trip started at 4am Thursday morning. In case you're curious, that is freakishly early in the morning. I'd showered the night before to save precious sleep time, so by 4:20, I was on my merry way to the bus stop at Paddington station. After waiting 15 minutes for a nonexistent bus that would have cost 90p, I saw a black cab pull into the station below, so I scurried off to catch him as he left and though I hate hailing cabs (I do realise it's dumb, but I feel stupid doing it), I did and 10 minutes and £13 later, I was at St. Pancras....30 minutes earlier than I needed to be. But the cabbie, in true London form, after asking the quintessential "where to, Love?" referred to me as a "young girl" whilst on his mobile to dispatch. So it was totally worth the extra £12 ;) So, I checked in for my train and walked around.

Eurostar is ever so proud of the new station, but there's quite a major flaw. You're required to check-in 30 minutes before your train...but all but one store is before the check-in point. So, you're supposed to sit for 30 minutes with nothing but a coffee shop. Oh well.

I fired off a few emails while I waited (god bless mobile broadband) and soon enough, I boarded. The train was nearly empty, as no one else is stupid enough to get up that early and I was quite happy I'd chosen "Leisure Select," which is business class, basically. The Eurostar staff are some of the nicest people I've ever seen in the service industry and they couldn't have been friendlier and more pleasant if they tried, on both legs on my trip. I was served a rather large and yummy breakfast at my seat and spent the rest of the ride trying to quell my motion sickness - 186mph hurts, let me just tell you. I also fired off a few emails once I could pick up the broadband signal in Belgium, just for novelty purposes (they were all "I'm on the train right now and I feel sick" and other cheesy things). I think I paid £10 for roaming, but oh well.

It got semi-light out as we entered Belgium and I watched the very very rural landscape go by as the sun came up and before I knew it, we were pulling into the Brussels station. Collecting my stuff, I rolled off to the subway section of the station and after getting turned around and lost several times - it isn't a logical system and there is no one to help - I got on a train that I was somewhat sure was taking me to the vicinity of my hotel. It was about at this point that I remembered how weird it was to arrive in London back in August and how everything had seemed difficult. It was a somewhat sick and somewhat heart-warming moment in my head.

In a miracle that struck me as a good sign, I found my hotel (the Crowne Plaza Brussels City Centre) very easily and they let me check in, despite my painfully early arrival. My room was quite large, especially by European standards and after a few more quick emails via the free wi-fi in the hotel, I set out to explore Brussels - with the dangerous comment from the concierge that the easiest way to get to the Grand Place (Brussels' town square) was through the shopping district. Shopping! Well, I wasn't 10 steps out the door when I decided my usually comfy boots hurt and that I needed new ones. After a bit of searching, I found some that were nearly identical to mine and bought them. This was my first lesson in how my lack of knowledge of French and/or Flemish was going to annoy me and all of the merchants who had to deal with me. But sadly, the new boots soon started hurting too...oh well. Sore feet were to become a theme for my weekend.

I spent Thursday wandering aimlessly and making poor meal choices. Some of you know how much I love to plan holidays, how I research the restaurants, the sights, etc. Well, this one was planned so quickly that I did none of that. I'd been advised by a friend that moules et frites (mussels and fries) is the Belgian meal and I'm a huge fan of both, so I was on the hunt for a yummy looking moules et frites serving restaurant. But alas, that lack of knowledge of Flemish and extremely limited knowledge of French were again my downfall.

Tourists all think the best seafood in the city is in an alley off the Grand Place, where the restaurants are so packed together that you can barely decipher one from another. And the waiters stand outside begging you to come in, trying to give you discounts and free extras. If you go online, you'll think this begging is Belgian custom. The tourists think it's all very exciting. Well, again with the help of net researching, here's my take on this tacky and stupid tradition: it has absolutely nothing to do with Belgian culture, it isn't the best food, the locals just know the tourists are too stupid to know any better, so it's become a rather embarrassing tradition. One I didn't really want to participate in. My major downfall in going on holiday is that I, as someone who grew up in the metro area of a major world city, despise the thought of being a tourist. Tourists enjoy stupid things, they get in the way of locals, they're just generally gullible and easily amused idiots ;) And I don't want to be thought of as one, so I always try to do what the locals do when I travel. And the locals don't barter with waiters in the streets of Brussels.

Brussels is a wonderful city, but be forewarned, it isn't set up for English-only speakers. Lol, it isn't very tourist friendly (although the signage for landmarks is very well thought-out and placed). So, I ended up at a place that stank of chain restaurant and tackiness, but which looked English-friendly and no one was begging me to eat there. And I promptly ordered the wrong thing and did not get moules et frites. Oops. I later found out that all the tourists consider this place - Chez Leon - to have the best moules et frites in Brussels, but the locals hate the place. So I was right, it's tacky (and is also a chain).

After more wandering, I went back to the hotel to research dinner...I was craving crepes and decided I would attempt moules et frites again for lunch on Friday. I thought I found a place for crepes, but it got horrible reviews all over the net, so I wasn't too excited. But it started to get late and I stopped caring what I ate, so I went. Well, at Drug Opera, so named because the building was once a pharmacy, the food wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either and my waiter was rude - and they do not have crepes, though they claim they do. Weird. But they actually have 3 different restaurants in the building, on different floors...and the basement is a wine cellar that actually did get good reviews (which I didn't go to because I wanted the stupid crepes). Oh well, next time perhaps.

Heading back to the hotel, I discovered there was a jazz concert going on in the hotel bar, so I headed in for a bit and then, after a failed attempt to get the sauna working and some breakfast researching online, I went to bed...totally exhausted, but loving the trip thus far. The bad choices and mishaps were actually rather amusing and I was happy to have made the journey.

Day 2:

After being good and working out in the hotel gym for a bit when I first got up, I caved and had breakfast at the hotel because I was starving and didn't think I could last long enough to go find good food. I had hoped they had small things on the menu and that I could still go have a real breakfast later, but it was a buffet - a bad one. As I was munching on my bad breakfast, I glanced at my watch - which I had set forward to European time...and it was an hour later than I thought it was. Oops. I'd used my mobile for an alarm clock and it was still on UK time. So ok, hurrying along, I went upstairs and got ready for another day on the town. I didn't have a huge list of things I wanted to see and do, but the concierge had told me that the old fish market had really good restaurants and I felt like I should go to the chocolate museum, on mere principle. Plus, the Christmas festival was starting that day.

So, by the time I got ready, it was nearly lunch time, so I went off to do search #2 for moules et frites, checking out some of the Christmas festival on my way. And I decided I would brave the stupid seafood alley, with my own system: 1) if they begged me, they were out of the running and 2) there had to be other local-looking people inside eating. After awhile, I finally picked a place...and got ripped off. They were not honouring the menu they had outside and though they weren't begging when I got there, they did it several times to passers-by while I ate. But, most importantly, I got moules et frites! And it was delicioso! And they give you a ton of mussels. Even I was stuffed and after paying the bill, I headed back to the hotel to rest and regroup. Picking up some handmade chocolate on the way - ordered via pointing and smiiling a lot - I arrived back at the hotel to plan my journey to the fish market - which looked a bit far. The chocolate museum was pushed to Saturday.

But after awhile, I had the route to the market sort of figured out and I set out for dinner. And on my way, I happened upon a much bigger section of the festival and aborted the fish market plan, in favour of a restaurant just off rip-off alley, that had been heralded as the one restaurant in the Grand Place that is not a gimmick. So I wandered the festival for awhile, bought more chocolate and started on my way back to the Grand Place.

And then the funniest and best moment of the entire trip happened: as I was around the corner from the Grand Place, almost to the restaurant, a huge blast of firework sounds went off and I have never seen anything like this, but everyone (hundreds of people) started bolting toward the Grand Place, out of stores, etc. And the streets around the Grand Place are medieval-type narrow-cobble stone streets. It was like a herd of cattle, lol. So, I followed them, figuring it was either the Apocalypse or something really cool.

Well, the gothic looking building in the square (not sure what it is?) was all lit up and changing colours and there was a woman on a balcony of it singing opera. She finished her song and these incredibly odd characters came out. They were like oompa loompas dressed like nutcrackers and they had sirens on their heads. One of them was doing the robot dance. Europeans are as weird as weird gets, I'm telling you. So then they wandered away down the street, sirens flashing as they went and the opera lady came back out and sang for forever. But what timing! I had no idea that little concert was scheduled - though, clearly the herd of cattle did - and I nearly missed it. And as I stood and watched the concert, I realised that I did it...I went on holiday by myself and I was loving it. Sadly, not a single picture of any of it because the batteries in my camera died! C'est la vie.

But, with my toes sufficiently frozen and feeling quite proud of myself, I headed to the restaurant for some hot food. Upon arriving, I noticed that compared to the other restaurants around it, it was quite full and no one was outside begging...and I was also thankful that I made a point throughout the trip to dress up, it appeared to be jacket-required. Stepping up to the host, I was suddenly worried they were too full. "Table pour une?" I asked with a hopeful smile. With a big smile back, he ushered me to a table and, long story short (as this whole thing is long!), I cannot recommend the Aux Armes de Bruxelles enough. They treated me like a queen and for a mere 45 euros, I dined on a perfectly crafted 4 course meal and a half a bottle of wine. In addition to the crepes I was still craving, I was also craving Saumon de Bearnaise...so I was giddy that one of their set menus included it and they did a wonderful job with its creation.

So, sufficiently stuffed and happy, I set off back to the hotel to be an old lady and go to bed...and got lost, in the pouring rain. But my wrong turn alerted me to a place called Maison des Crepes. Crepes! Lunch for Saturday! When I finally got back to the hotel, I was drenched and cold and after a quick search on the crepes place - which had all positive results - I went to bed.

Day 3:

After another workout and an in-room breakfast of the danishes I'd wisely purchased the day before at a boulagerie, I checked out of the hotel with the obligatory plan to finally see the stupid chocolate museum and to get to the Grand Sablon, where the two best chocolatiers in the whole world supposedly are - Wittamer and Pierre Marcolini...and, of course, the crepes I'd found the night before.

After a light lunch at Wittamer's cafe and a bit of wandering the Grand Sablon, I headed back to my neck of the woods, impressed with how quickly I'd become oriented with Brussels. I wandered the festival yet again, as it's rather endless and there are countless parades, etc, and then I headed to the crepes place. I never did make it to the museum. I decided I don't really care about the history of chocolate, I only really care about chocolate in the present, which I can eat. I came to this conclusion whilst scarfing chocolate from a shop within the festival :P

Well, they are in fact, quite tasty crepes at the Maison des Crepes...only, when I went to pay, I discovered that they don't take credit cards. Oops!!! But, the manager was quite nice and trusting (and fluent in English, mercifully) and directed me to a cash machine around the corner. I promised, with mortified embarrassment, that I would be right back. After being assaulted by a homeless man (who I inadvertently scared the daylights out of) and waiting in a very long line at the machine, I got the needed cash and left a hefty tip, with more apologies for my idiocy...and headed back to the hotel, having loved my quick holiday but quite ready to get back to relaxing London.

I had an hour or so to kill, so I sat in the lobby web surfing and resting my sad feet and decided to take a cab to the train station instead of the subway...and ended up sharing one with a London-based couple, also heading back. Which was good because he ripped us off and I wouldn't have had enough cash on me for the hefty fare his long route created. The couple and I were perturbed but in too much of a hurry to care.

The ride home was lovely, with a 3 course dinner and copious amounts of champagne and wine...and very amusing carriage mates, and before I knew it, I was back to my flat.

So, there you have it...I've gone on holiday by myself and it was heaven. Madrid is next, in late January. Brussels was lovely, but next time, I want more sun and less frozen digits and rain ;)

And now my life of leisure has come to a close...tomorrow is the first real Monday I've had in four months, one that marks the beginning of a work week. Oh happy day.

I came to London four months ago...and I have a flat, budding friendships, a job and I've travelled to Europe. Who knew it was this easy?