You know how it feels when you've had way too much chocolate, and you're a bit queasy but still rather pleased with yourself, as it tasted really good? That's exactly how I felt by the end of the day I am about to tell you of.
I left Gothenburg early in the morning. Spring had decided to come exactly that day, so I left behind a wide expanse of sunny forests. For one of the ugliest cities ever. But I didn't know that yet.
I got to Brussels airport and proceeded to patiently wait for my friend, who was supposed to pick me up. And I wait. And I wait. And I finally get a phone call: "erm, what airport are you at?". Just great! He was waiting for me at the wrong bloody airport. And he had also chosen the one that was furthest away from the city (about 60km). So I find a bus to take me to the city, and kindly ask the driver in my very broken French (tiny little shards of French, actually), to let me know when a certain square came up, as that's where I was supposed to be heading. Of course he doesn't tell me and I end up travelling to the end of the line.
Oh well. What can a triwi do when stranded in a strange city? Sightseeing, of course. Except it was raining, I had only slept 2 hours the previous night, I was starving and I had 15kg on my back. Not to mention I walked several streets and squares and nothing interesting revealed itself. Only dirt, crowds, chaotic traffic, scaffolding, an unsightly hodge-podge of new and old, (both poorly maintained), and the huge sterile-looking buildings where our Europe's fate gets decided. So I took refuge in a warm Irish pub, where I was refreshed by a huge egg sandwich and the cheerful company of a young man with a tie in my favourite shade of red (random act of kindness no. 1 - thanks, Jonathan!). He reinforced my first impression of the city by candidly telling me there was nothing to see there.
I finally managed to meet my friend, who had returned from his wrong journey into the Belgian countryside, had another sightseeing attempt which miserably failed into ugliness, paid a compulsory visit to a Belgian chocolate shop, and took the train to Maastricht. Upon arrival, half a kg of chocolate was consumed, a hot shower was had, and life seemed a bit better.
So if you want pictures of Brussels, go google them. I blow my nose in its general direction.
Stay tuned for next stop: Maastricht. Lots more fun!
I left Gothenburg early in the morning. Spring had decided to come exactly that day, so I left behind a wide expanse of sunny forests. For one of the ugliest cities ever. But I didn't know that yet.
I got to Brussels airport and proceeded to patiently wait for my friend, who was supposed to pick me up. And I wait. And I wait. And I finally get a phone call: "erm, what airport are you at?". Just great! He was waiting for me at the wrong bloody airport. And he had also chosen the one that was furthest away from the city (about 60km). So I find a bus to take me to the city, and kindly ask the driver in my very broken French (tiny little shards of French, actually), to let me know when a certain square came up, as that's where I was supposed to be heading. Of course he doesn't tell me and I end up travelling to the end of the line.
Oh well. What can a triwi do when stranded in a strange city? Sightseeing, of course. Except it was raining, I had only slept 2 hours the previous night, I was starving and I had 15kg on my back. Not to mention I walked several streets and squares and nothing interesting revealed itself. Only dirt, crowds, chaotic traffic, scaffolding, an unsightly hodge-podge of new and old, (both poorly maintained), and the huge sterile-looking buildings where our Europe's fate gets decided. So I took refuge in a warm Irish pub, where I was refreshed by a huge egg sandwich and the cheerful company of a young man with a tie in my favourite shade of red (random act of kindness no. 1 - thanks, Jonathan!). He reinforced my first impression of the city by candidly telling me there was nothing to see there.
I finally managed to meet my friend, who had returned from his wrong journey into the Belgian countryside, had another sightseeing attempt which miserably failed into ugliness, paid a compulsory visit to a Belgian chocolate shop, and took the train to Maastricht. Upon arrival, half a kg of chocolate was consumed, a hot shower was had, and life seemed a bit better.
So if you want pictures of Brussels, go google them. I blow my nose in its general direction.
Stay tuned for next stop: Maastricht. Lots more fun!
2 comments:
No comment to this one :-)
...meaning you agree or disagree?
Post a Comment