Brussels

25 September 2009
Friday - Sunday ~

Friday was a day of travel. We boarded the train in Yverdon, changed trains in Basel, and arrived in Brussels just at dark. We got off the train in Basel, crossed the international line from Switzerland to France, and boarded the next train. I thought we were going to have to show our passports but no one asked for them.

Another couple from Chicago was on the same train and we hadn’t gone very far before three officials came into the car and asked to see their tickets. Then they asked for their passports after which they requested to examine their luggage. Customs officials.

We had our passports out but they passed us by to talk with another couple of people farther up the coach. The lady from Chicago poked her head around and asked why they went through customs and we didn’t. The only answer we could think of is that they were staying in France for a couple of days and we were simply passing through on our way to Brussels.

The city was lit up as if it was Christmas time. Lights everywhere; shining on buildings; shining from buildings; shining around buildings. We gawked like the tourists we are. It was stunning. If you can, find a picture on the internet of Brussels after dark. I didn’t take any because we were whipping by in a taxi.

We were stopped about half a mile or less from our hotel by a roller-derby, of all things. Thankfully, we caught the last tail-end of it and weren’t stopped for more than just a few minutes. Not that we didn’t want to watch….the taxi driver didn’t turn off the meter and it kept clicking over. I tried a few shots of that but only got blurs and bright lights.

Mom was able to call Judy Hordyk, one of our ministers in Belgium, and we were invited to their batch in Halle for lunch the next day. We got directions to their place and went to bed.

Rhonda slid under the covers, teeth chattering. She is always chilled! I rolled my eyes and huffed. Mom asked if she needed to borrow a pair of socks.
“I’m already wearing socks!” she exclaimed.
We’d been giggling over Little Liam’s remarks all day and this set us off again. It was hopeless. The lights were out, everything quiet, and I’d remember her “I’m already wearing socks!” and start giggling again. Which would set Rhonda off.

We finally acted like grown-ups, settled ourselves down and went to sleep.

Next morning we set off with a map in hand to explore some of the gorgeous places we’d seen the night before and to hopefully find a music shop where Rhonda could purchase a CD of Lara Fabian. We walked and looked and bought Cds and took pictures…and then had to rush to the train station to get to Judy and Irene’s batch in Halle in time.

We were just a few minutes late but who wouldn’t be with all the architecture there? We walked along a park and turned onto something we thought was a street but it was sort of a…hmm….how to describe it….a wide walkway for pedestrians with stairs down to the next level. We came to the bottom of it and it turned into a sidewalk. We turned to the right (it was either that or left and I wanted to go right) and came through an arch onto one of those big two-acre cobblestoned squares complete with a statue in the middle.

We were hurrying to catch the train and were still umpteen blocks from it so I didn’t race out there to see who the statue was for. Besides, tour buses and impatient car drivers were whipping around it as if it were an English round-about.

Judy (from Washington but in French-speaking Europe for 35+ years) and Irene (from England and in same area ten years longer than Judy) served us a delightful lunch. Corn salad first. Not sure why it’s called corn salad when there wasn’t any corn in it….there were only some sort of leaves, onion, garlic, and vinaigrette dressing.

Main course was a casserole of tomatoes, eggplant, green peppers, and zucchini; boiled potatoes; roasted parsnips; broccoli; and pan-fried fresh-caught fish. All of it was very delicious.

For dessert, we were served fresh strawberries and a cake of some sort made with cheese. Very good.

They urged us on to more and greater portions. Rhonda laughed ruefully and said she understood now what our ministers go through when we serve them wonderful dinners and urge them on to more and greater portions.

All of the things were purchased that morning at what we’d call a farmer’s market. How cool is that for city-dwellers? Go out to the street behind your house and purchase your goods for the week Judy said they are there on Thursdays, so the Catholics can get their fish for the morrow, and on Saturdays.

Irene told us an interesting story of why Catholics eat fish on Fridays. It seems that a few centuries ago the Sicilian fishermen were having a hard time of it in the markets. Sales were very bad and the fishermen were having difficulty making ends meet.

So they appealed to the Pope. I don’t know if he was Sicilian or if he had a soft heart for them or if he was paid but he issued an edict that all good Catholics ate fish on Fridays.

Thus ended the economic woes of the Sicilian fishermen.

Judy took us on a tour of Halle while Irene rested (she had cancer surgery in March and is still taking chemo). We stepped inside an elaborate Catholic church (I know that’s redundant but I had to say it) and then quickly stepped out; there was a funeral service going on. Judy said the person must not have ranked too highly because it was a woman giving the service and they didn’t toll the bell very long. I thought they tolled it once for every year the deceased lived but I didn’t remember that until just now while writing this.

We meandered through a park and learned that Belgium has a king. I didn’t know that.

The sister’s batch fronts a road and across from the road is a canal. This canal is a major water-way from the south of Belgium to Brussels and points north. We saw a barge but were at the table and I could hardly pop up, dash out, and snap a photo.

We were served a very hot cup of tea. I took a first scalding sip and observed that it was a bit hotter than the cup we’d had that morning. Irene and Judy looked at us and Rhonda explained that we had made ours from the hot water tap in our room. Irene looked revolted; Judy dropped her head into her hands and shuddered. We laughed.

Like all good things, our visit had to come to an end. We said our good-byes, took a photo of Irene and Judy, and left for the train station on the other side of the canal.

Irene accompanied us not only to the train station, but back to Brussels and lined us up for the train trip to meeting next morning and the train trip to Hanover afterwards. What a dear, dear woman.

The only language lesson I’m going to give this time is that Dutch is different from Flemish but only a little and Dutch is quite different from German. Where we were in Halle, it’s Flemish country and the people don’t like French much, even though it’s an official language of Belgium. You talk to them in French and they’ll likely answer in Flemish or Dutch.

Sunday was the second time I’ve taken a train to meeting. Budapest was the first. This one stopped at every station between Brussels and Lilloit (Lee-lou-wah) and took half an hour. We had our luggage with us so here we were in Sunday dress, shoulder bags in place, pulling our luggage, and hurrying to make the metro and the train. We were hurrying because we didn’t know the metro schedule and if we missed our train, we wouldn’t make it in time for meeting.

Meeting in Lillioit was at the convention grounds there. I was expecting a larger area like we have here in the states but was unsurprised when it consisted of a large house and a smallish yard. We three sat in a corner of the room and Judy interpreted for us through a whisper microphone. She then interpreted us to them.

Same gentle spirit, same wonderful people. When Rhonda said her last name, they got all excited and chattered in their language. Evidently, they know some people in Canada with the same last name and wondered if they were related to her. The name didn’t ring a bell for her, and they were a bit disappointed.

Judy drove us and a young lady named Maria to the train station in Waterloo. Maria is from Ecuador and is a nurse in Brussels. She accompanied us on the train back to Brussels and pointed out where we needed to go next in the big Brussels Midi station. We’ve had such wonderful help all along from such kind-hearted people!

Yes, the Waterloo we went through is the same Waterloo that Napoleon met his fate. I said that I always thought it was in France and Judy spluttered a bit. I muttered that I was thankful I was sitting behind her in the car and she couldn’t slap me. Splutters turned to laughter.

We did see windmills in Brussels….the modern kind that produce electricity. We didn’t see the old-fashioned kind that you think of when you think of the Netherlands; Belgium isn’t the low-land that Holland is until you get close to the sea.

The train ride to Cologne (Köln in German) was on the high-speed line.
We got up around 140 mph in some places. We were whizzing along so fast that there weren’t many pictures that came out. We were also served a lunch of a piece of salmon; a barley and carrot mix; a salad of apples, celery, some sort of thin-grated cheese or noodles, and some other things we couldn’t identify; two rolls; butter; a soft, spread-able cheese; drink; and tea or coffee. This was the first time we’ve been served a meal on the train except for the one from Vienna to Prague where they offered us pre-packaged sandwiches, dessert, and drink. The train from Köln to Hanover was almost as fast but no meal there.

My impression of Brussels was of solidness. They’ve been there for a very long time. Most of the other cities we were in had an old area and then the newer parts all around it. Two or three dozen square blocks more or less, and you’re in newer (less than 200 years) buildings. Brussels’ old architecture was all over the place. They exude the assurance of international business and neutrality. They’re not there to fight; they’re there to do business and make money. Sober men in long coats and top hats carrying canes walking along discussing a new idea or venture.

Bigwigs, corporations, international trade, money, international government…. We were reading in the paper Saturday about some big international meeting of heads of state that was held there just last week.