11.23.17 Thanksgiving

How could you do this to me?

Oh Brussels.  Oh day trips to other countries.  Why must you sound so good in the abstract but be so unfulfilling in the act?  

Some of you may remember Salzburg from the OG blog, batbg.blogspot.com - well, Brussels was a sort of less angry dad version of that.  

Everyone managed to get up and out of the house in plenty of time to catch the train, so we headed over to our usual spot for breakfast.  Closed.  On to the next, where we gobbled some bread and slammed a coffee and down into the metro.  

Once at Gare du Nord, we made our way through the massive station, ending up at a divider between the regional trains and the city trains.  A man stopped and started helping us, looking at our tickets, pointing the way, and then using his pass to open the gates for all of us.  It was a good sign first thing in the morning.  H2 was very interested in all his pointing and it was a good chance to point out that we can communicate a lot with our gestures.  I didn’t show her Los Angeles’ drivers favorite one.  

We had some time to kill, so the girls decided to try out the pedal charger, but were a little too short so it turned into a pedal battle.  Our platform number popped up, so we headed over, got on the train and discovered we had a nice square seating arrangement, so we busted out the Uno and started playing.  

A lady sits down next to us and mutters oh Paris I miss you! And does about a million kisses towards the window.  She is talking to herself very loudly, then gets on the phone very loudly, and then as the train gets going, so pulls out an old school radio, late 70s vintage, no headphones, and starts tuning in stations as the train is running.  The volume is up ridiculously loud and the fuzz is brutal, but not as brutal as when she tunes in her station and sits back relaxed with the volume shaking fillings loose.  A man behind us sits up in his seat, looks at us, and I give him the universal sign for it’s not me - and then point at the lady.  He starts talking to her in French and eventually the radio goes off.  The whole rest of the journey though she keeps turning it on (a little quieter) and trying to tune in a station.  

Next, the worst things possible happens.  She starts talking to us.  In French.  I’m not even sure I can communicate the insanity here in writing because there was so much gesticulation.  Lots of muah muah muah and weird hand movements.  The gist is that she likes H1 VERY MUCH because she is so smart and beautiful.  H2 is okay.  She likes her too.  She loves America, it is very nice.  When we try to play our very important game of Uno, she snaps at us to get our attention and shouts madame madame madame.  

After a long run of this, I told the girls to pretend to be asleep.  I don’t have the French to tell this lady to leave us alone, so I shut down the target of her rants.  

Eventually, she says I GO.  Grabs all her gear and splits.  H2 turns to me and says she was smelling a leaf in her bag.  Weird.  

H1 then pops up and says I wasn’t even asleep, I was pretending!

We have a semi-quiet ride, a new woman sits in the lady’s seat, and then the lady returns ranting that the new woman has stolen her wallet.  There is a ton of French shouted in the car, at this lady, at the men in the next seat, and no one reacts at all.  At this point, S says she gets a whiff of heavy alcohol and everything begins to make a little more sense.  

The new woman speaks English and says that this is the behavior of a thief.  Distract and then attempt to dig through someone’s stuff while they are befuddled.  

Not an auspicious start to our Brussels trip.  

We took a taxi to the city center, dug into some fries, and sat in the square and watched, trying to get a bead on what Brussels might be all about.  It was strangely empty with a mist rolling in.  They had the best Charlie Brown christmas tree up in the center though.  

A well-reviewed chocolatier was around the corner, so we headed up the hill and gave it a try.  I’ve never seen so many euros of chocolate consumed so quickly, but it was excellent so I went behind and cleaned up all the leftovers that had bites taken out of them.  The speculoos dark chocolate was incredible.  We killed some time here, using the free wifi, sipping our coffees as slowly as kids will allow, making sure to use their clean bathroom multiple times each.  The usual.  

KEY MOMENT:  At this classy joint, H1 emerges from the toilet and announces with a pained face: My butthole hurts from my big poop!

A class act.

At the park across from the royal palace, the mist continued to roll in.  An acrid smell of burning wires or burning rubber descended on the park adding to a strange, eerie vibe the city was giving off.  The park was crumbling and the city itself was a little more rough - definitely not as much money rolling in here.  More trash, more grime - more like LA!  When you don’t speak the language or have any familiarity with the place, it ends up being a lot more intimidating - what must LA be like for tourists?

Back down the center strip to the main square, the Grand Place with its old guildhalls.  They were getting the square ready for Christmas with a manger and a giant tree, but H2 was mostly interested in looking at the horses.  

As we stood taking in the architecture, the rain finally rolled in, light at first, and then pounding, with no overhangs to speak of.  We were soaked, but thankfully, had our rain coats on so it was just our jeans which our super fun to wear when they are wet.  

We had two more goals to hit before leaving: belgian beer and belgian waffles.  

Beer was up first at Moeder Lambic.  After getting soaked, it was wonderful to sit down in the warmth.  We busted out the coloring materials for the girls, ordered a geuze and a framboise gueuze, a plate of charcuterie, and a salad and killed another chunk of time.  This euphoric experience of wild fermented belgian beers was rudely interrupted by a tic tac toe argument, but I was happy with my little taste of things fairly unavailable in the states.  

Beer checked off, it was time for waffles.  On the way, we saw fries again, so the girls got down on these double hot dogs in french rolls and more frites.  These were superior frites and H2 went spirit animal getting down on the tasty fries announcing they are sooo good through a mouth full of food.  

At Maison Dandoy for waffles, three of us got waffles, H1 got straight ice cream.  I went with the liege waffle which has rough edges like myself.  Mine had speculoos ice cream and caramel, S did chocolate and strawberry sauce and the waiter gave her a look like she was crazy.  He said maybe on the side.  Wacky American.  

Back on the street, we passed an ice cream spot and H2 announced that she needed an ice cream immediately after having some with her waffle.  She said she didn’t like it so it didn’t count.  She then looked at me sternly and said how could you do this to me?  Not get me ice cream?  

We found a taxi and then went on the wildest 20 minute taxi ride that exceeded Rome in craziness.  The taxis in Brussels barely wait for pedestrians, they drive the wrong way on tram tracks, they do not pay attention to signs or lights, they run in front of fire engines THAT HAVE THEIR LIGHTS ON - if your house is on fire here, expect a delay because no one is moving over for the truck FYI.  

About an hour of waiting and we were on our train, in our nifty little compartment, and in the seats next to us is another family of Americans with two daughters the same age roughly.  We chatted about traveling and all the girls colored.  

The whole day H1 kept asking what happens if the crazy lady is on the train.  I am happy to report that she was not on the train.  

H1 and H2 did a little bit of a behavior performance, trying to look cool in front of other Americans by being rude to their mom and dad.  This earned them the ire of their mother, who then at McDonalds, told me sternly - BURGER FRIES NO TOY NO DRINK.  NO HAPPY MEAL - THIS IS GETTING REAL!  

The struggles of parenting don’t disappear on vacation.  It’s a real shame.  

Tomorrow is the last day and I have decided I am going to eat anything I see that looks good.  

Let’s get it on!