Eurotrash 2012-Day 1 Getting lost in Brussels

Instead of using a costly taxi, i coerced Candice into trusting my 'global positioning awareness'. I convinced her into my confidence that 'how difficult can it really be'. At the risk of not looking like one of those tourists you always see back home pointing at 'stuff', their agonizing expressions a clear give-away of them trying to figure things out. I ended up, arm in air, finger pointing at every cryptic dutch clue i could find to save face.

With heavy luggage in tow, we managed to make it to the 'Metro'. Thanks to the remarkable similarity between Dutch and Afrikaans (you always knew it, but never saw it in action). Coincidently, it was also thanks to encouragement by Candice to get me to put my pride aside and ask directions. I was aided by an old fellow who thought i was Indian. Namaste to him too. We ended up walking against the flow of Friday afternoon rush hour crowds, ducking into swaying arms, 15kg bags in tow, acting on pure instinct and residual airplane food energy. Which is not much, seeing as it tasted like facecloth.

We used the Belgian underground like seasoned pros. Nevermind the quizzical glares by commuters, we felt we fitted right in. We were riding the shit outta that damn E3579 two-carriage train to our stop...a mere 2 stations away. That's right, so much drama and our destination was a mere 14kms away from the airport!

All good and well. It's those very awkward experiences, bewilderment, uncertainty and daze in a completely foreign land that makes the experience so unique. A uniqueness i was craving to experience yet again after settling in at our hotel room We've just taken a walk down the road from our hotel and out of sheer curiosity (and against Candice's protests), i dragged her into a private 'invitation only' artist showroom purely because I saw wine being handed out by the glasS. I forgOt. The poi.nt i was trying to mak.