A Day in Brussels – No Sprouts, but a Good Friend
I slept a good amount. The combination of extreme travel/Tinto-weariness, and strong Belgian beer served me well in terms of slumber.
After a shower, and luggage drop at the hotel, I headed north to the Royal Gallery of Saint Hubert. This is a shopping arcade built in the 1840s. I remembered it from a previous visit and had resolved to repeat the waffle/coffee incident I had experienced before. Duly, I ordered.
I very much enjoyed my waffle with fresh fruit, chantilly cream and coffee. I also enjoyed “The House With Chicken Legs” – another one of Morag’s recommendations.
I pottered around the city, a took in a rather beautiful cathedral. It reminded me a lot of St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral in Edinburgh, where my grandfather was part of the ministry team in the 1980s. I no longer consider myself religious, yet I still find churches comforting, and peaceful places to spend time.
I lit a candle to remember my grandparents, and all those dear to me still living or dead.
In the afternoon, I met Athole. Our friendship goes back to the earliest Tinto Summer Schools, where we were both house staff. We see each other very sporadically, but when we do the conversation just occurs as if there was no interval whatsoever. Much setting of the the world to rights occurred, and I was very glad to have met with a long-standing, and very dear friend.
Athole and I said our farewells, before I headied back to Brussels Midi/Zuid, via the hotel to collect my cases. This happened swiftly, and without incident. However, I did bemoan somewhat the “trek” through the city on foot carrying what felt like significantly heavy luggage.
My train to Salzburg departed from platform 8 on time at 19:06 CEST. I had the foresight to buy myself an egg, and ham baguette to ensure a lack of rumbly stomach throughout the journey. I have a “mantra” that food consumed on/prior to a long journey should be simple, and without odour so as not to unsettle others on the same route.
My travelling companions spoke mostly In French, were all from Belgium., apart from a young woman who was from Spain They conversed politely with me in English, asking about Scottish “mosquitoes”, and the potential for good weather on a visit to my country. I got them to try and explain the French/Flemish nature of Belgium, with limited success. As it happened, one of the gentlemen was from Flanders. This was the area I had visited not two months previously, so I was pleased to get his “take” on the city of Ieper, and the reliance of same on Battlefield Tourism.
We crossed into Germany sometime between 20:00 CEST, and 21:00 CEST. We a while stationary south of Aachen for no apparent reason. After an hour or so, we headed in what seemed like a backwards direction. I could see from the map however, that we had indeed changed lines and were now northeast of Aachen. No explanation was provided.
I traversed the continent with the sound of Kraftwerk’s “Trans Europe Express” through my headphones.
