My Inevitable Last Stop

When booking my flight over here a couple of weeks before leaving the US, on a whim it hit me that instead of flying both in and out of Madrid, I might as well fly home from a different place so I could see somewhere different. Considering my perameters of both a place I hadn’t been before as well as a place I could get a cheap flight to from Brussels, I came up with Dublin. And here I am.

I only gave myself 2 days here so, as usual, I had a lot to do in a short time. A time made even shorter by the 2-hour nap I absolutely HAD to take yesterday morning after arriving (need I repeat: 6:30 am flights are never, NEVER!, a good idea). As usual, I had no plans upon arrival of what I wanted to do so figured I would work it out as I went. The one exception was making sure I went to the Guiness Storehouse to see where all the magic happens (not surprisingly, it is the #1 tourist destination in Dublin). And since I was pretty wiped out (read: not enough energy to do my usual city tour by foot) and it was cold and damp when I got here yesterday (read: I didn’t want to be outside) it seemed like the perfect day to do it.

I’ve gotten pretty good and fearless at getting myself around strange cities and countries, even when I don’t speak the language. That being said, the one mode of transportation I try to avoid at all costs in a place where I’m not familiar is the public bus. Oy. It can be challenging enough when you’re in a country where you DO speak the language as, if you’re not familiar with the bus system, it can be tricky knowing where to get off (ask me about the time in London when I overshot my stop by at least a half hour before I eventually caught on that something was up. Or the time in Santiago when I sailed right past the academy I was going to and had to majorly backtrack and showed up super late to class. Or the time in France when I was trying to get to the airport to catch a flight and I suddenly realized I was hurtling through the French countryside completely alone on the whole train, with NO other passengers and it was really and truly just me and the conductor on the train, him being sealed off in his car in the front and me pounding on it with all my might to alert him of my presence (yes, that was a train and not a bus, but still a good story!).  

I appreciated their honesty: "Probably" the best pizza in town.
Not the best in the world, not even 100% sure that someone
else in town isn't better, but we think it's not likely....

Either way, as I was way too tired to try to make the long walk to the Guiness Factory like I would have normally done, I decided to give it a shot and brave the dreaded public bus system. Since I was now in an English-speaking country again, I felt my chances were a lot higher. In my brief experience here, it seems to me that the Irish are an extremely affable people (My first conversation here was with a guy at the airport who greeted me with a huge smile and a “Good morning! How are you today?” I answered with the typical American “Fine, thanks.” Only to have him come back with an even bigger smile and a “No, really, how ARE you??”. His enthusiasm was catching) and the bus driver was no exception. I asked how I would know when to get off and he assured me he would make a special announcement just for me when we got to that stop (hard to imagine a bus driver in Philly doing that. They’re generally more likely to chuck you off without a second thought for even daring to ask a question).

Dublin Castle

The driver kept his word and I got off at the right place w/o incident. I wasn't 10 steps away from the bus when yet another affable chap asked me if I had yet figured out how to get to the Guinness Factory (hmm, how did he just know I was going there? I apparently SCREAM tourist… have to work on that) and could we figure it out together? The funny thing about traveling alone is that you rarely end up traveling alone, which is awesome. So I ended up with a buddy to do the tour with and to share our free pints of freshly brewed and expertly poured Irish Guinness with, in the all-glass room at the top of the building that offered great views of the whole city. We toured, we talked, we laughed, we discussed politics and life and travel, we drank beer and spent an all-around great afternoon hanging out.


I like that in Ireland the churches and the
liquor companies can work together

Today I was back on track and up for my typical 8-hour city walking tour. I made it to the Dublin Castle (although I’m pretty sure I missed something there as it mostly looked like offices to me), to the original St. Patrick’s Cathedral, a bunch of other old buildings and churches, the very famous Trinity College and to the one place everyone told me I just HAD to get to in Dublin: the Temple Bar District.


The real deal, the ORIGINAL St. Patrick's Cathedral

Of course Ireland has a reputation for its pubs and, while you really do find just as many of them on every street and alley all over the city as you would imagine, Temple Bar District has a very high concentration of them in one area. Charming Irish pub after charming Irish pub for streets and streets. And the most famous of all of them is, you guessed it, Temple Bar. I decided there would be no more truly authentic way to spend a few hours in Dublin than to pass them in the most famous pub in the whole city, which I promptly did. The truth is, I’m not really a bar person; I’ve oftentimes found them to be seedy and even more often depressing. But British pubs are none of these things, they’re lively places filled with happy people and live music (at least in my limited experience); here they’re just such an intrinsic part of the culture, a place where friends meet, where families go for dinner (even with children) and where good times seem to abound. For a non-bar person, it was a great bar experience!




Just some random coolness I happened upon

Back to the hotel to pack up for the last time (whew!) and then off to the local pub that’s next to my hotel for dinner for a typical Irish dinner. A good friend of mine who travels for a living has obscene amounts of flight upgrades at his disposal and he very generously shares them with me whenever possible. Tomorrow is one of those times, so I’ll be heading back to the States in high style… wahoo! So while I’m not ready to leave and would happily stay another 3 weeks, the inevitable bummer of finally having to head back will be made that much easier by getting to do so in luxury. Aaaah. 

The famous Temple Bar....

That, and the fact that I’ll only be home for 3 days before heading off on my next adventure. Oh yes, stay tuned.... !



 

.... and the Guinness I drank in it!

Trinity College, founded in 1592

 

The pubs of Dublin

 

 

 

Au revoir, Belgique!

The view from my bedroom window at the Eeckhouts

Today was my last day in Belgium. As I have yet another obscenely early flight tomorrow morning, I am at an airport near the hotel. Note to self: it is never, ever, EVER a good idea to take a flight before noon. Even if it’s cheaper initially, it costs you extra in transportation as, strangely, most buses and trains don’t run at 4:00 am and there’s a good chance you will end up having to pay exorbitant fees for a taxi or pay for a hotel room at the airport. Huh. Even if you think it will give you extra time in the next place as “I’ll be there by 8 am and will have the whole day ahead of me!”, you will actually have less and/or be a useless blob because you’ll be so freaking wiped out after only having two hours of sleep because you had to set your alarm for 3:00 am. So, no, it is never, not for any reason, ever a good idea to take a 6:30 am flight. Take my word for it. 

At the chocolate store... impossible to choose just one!

But before getting to this hotel (which, inexplicably, has bunk beds in my room) I spent one last day with the Eeckhouts. I spent some time in the am getting my stuff together (considering I had bought nothing here, how did my stuff expand THAT much?!) and then in the afternoon Emmanuelle and I headed to her university to attend an English class. It was a freakishly sunny day here so we were also fortunate enough to be able to have lunch in an on-campus park and bask in the gorgeous weather.



The world's cutest kitten. Shhh, don't tell Javi!

The afternoon brought more Taxi Mom duties and errands. Since I’m not a shopper nor one to buy souvenirs when traveling, and hadn’t bought anything during my entire three weeks here, I decided that I would allow myself to make an exception. And, as long as you’re going to make an exception, you might as well make a really good one and buy the coolest souvenir you can take home from a country. In the case of Belgium, that is clearly one of two things: beer or chocolate. I couldn't decide so I bought both! As an awesome bonus, I bought six great, high quality Belgian beers for what I would pay for ONE at a local pub in Lancaster. Double score! So come Friday, you will most likely find me sitting around my house getting over my jetlag surrounded by empty beer bottles and chocolate wrappers. Ah, the travails of traveling.

The Eeckhout clan: Emmanuelle, Pierre,
Martin and Emile... and Mutey!

We had a very nice family dinner all together and then it was time to say our goodbyes. This family has been so kind and welcoming to me, making their home mine and allowing me to become a part of their daily lives. Having known them for two years in Lancaster, it was wonderful to be able to see them “on their own turf” and to witness and experience firsthand so many of the things about their life in Belgium that we had spent so much time discussing back in the States. I have a real affection for this family and a genuine affinity for these boys so saying goodbye gave me some pause. But they’re planning a trip back to Lancaster over the summer so I have no doubt our paths will cross again... either in PA or back in Ottiegnes Louvain la Neuve!




The Venice of the North

On the old square in Bruges

While the majority of my time here is intended simply to spend time with the Eeckhouts and to participate in what they do on a daily basis, today we ventured into the tourist realm and headed northwest to Bruges, a 12^th century city that’s a World Heritage Site and is often referred to as the Venice of the North. When you picture a perfectly quaint and ridiculously charming European city set on canals running all through the city, you’re picturing Bruges (okay, you might also be picturing Venice but for the purposes of today’s exercise, let’s call it Bruges).

Martin, Emmanuelle and Emile huddling
for warmth!

What’s also interesting about visiting Bruges from Brussels is that it’s kind of like visiting a whole different country. Belgium is a country divided into two main regions: the southern French-speaking region of Wallonia (where the Eeckhouts live) and the northern Dutch-speaking region of Flanders, where Bruges is located (there’s also a third region, the Brussels-Capital Region, which strictly contains, well, Brussels). We left the house and two hours later found ourselves in the Dutch-speaking part of the country, where all of the signs are in Dutch, there are no more French radio stations and French speakers are not super well-received. Very interestingly to me, as there exists a certain amount of animosity between the two regions (Flanders wants to be separate from the Wallonia…. Hello, Texas?), Emmanuelle said it would be better if she were to speak to people there in English instead of French as they would treat her better.

Sometimes taking the tourist boat is worth it!

For an American, it’s such an odd concept to imagine living in a country (which is approximately the size of Maryland, no less) and going from one part to the other and suddenly not being able to understand the language, as well as experiencing a different culture of sorts.

Fries are an institution here

Either way, despite the cold and grey day (as one of the boys said, Bruges wouldn’t really be Bruges if it were sunny and warm), we totally enjoyed our day there, meandering through the cobblestone streets and alleys and checking out nearly 1,000-year-old old Dutch architecture. We wandered through a still-operational Benedictine abbey and took a (tourist alert!) boat ride through the canals, which gave a really great view of the city. And of course, what touristy day in Belgium would be complete without Belgian waffles?! As a total novice, I thought they were fabulous but Emile rated them as “not great”. Belgians sure do know their waffles!

It somehow doesn't show in the photo, but all of these trees
are leaning to the right

In the evening when we got back home, to complete our thoroughly Belgian day, we all went to dinner at Barraque à frites Jean-Lou. I assumed we were going to a place to have fries with dinner but, no no, at this place fries ARE the dinner. For realz. Huge amounts of hand-cut, double-fried potatoes and served with any number of dipping sauces. And voila, dinner! I was also schooled on the fact that, despite common misconceptions, fries are actually a very Belgian invention. While I’m very willing to do my part to attempt to change the moniker of French fries to Belgian fries when back in the US, I’m not too sure it will catch on anytime soon. But change has to start somewhere, right?!

Benedictine Abbey

House on the canal

Belgian chocolates... yet another institution!

Me and da' boyz

I know. Ridiculously charming, right?

I got chocolate and bananas on my waffle. Not truly 'purist',
I know, but yuuuu-mmy



Slightly more charming than the CVS back home, no?

Back in the square

A dinner comprised solely of french... er, Belgian fries. Yeah, baby!

Chillin' with the Eeckhouts

Emile's school, which has gained global recognition as
Europe's most ecologicallhy progressive school.

After my harried 22-hour trip here earlier in the week, it was time to head back to Brussels (more precisely, to Ottignies Louvain la Neuve, a small town just outside of Brussels) for a more “proper” visit with the Eeckhouts. For reasons I still can’t explain, it seemed like a good idea at the time to book a 6:30 am flight from Copenhagen to Brussels. Right around the time I had to set my alarm for 3:00 am (yes, you read that right) to get up in time to catch my train to the airport, it started to seem like the worst idea of all time.

A street market in a nearby town

Either way, I survived yet another night with only 2 hours of sleep and even got to observe something cool on the plane (I’m considering it a reward). As we took off before sunrise, I got to see the sun come up while in the air; at one point, as we were heading south, looking out the left side of the plane, it was bright and full daylight while at the same moment you could look out the right side of the plane and see complete blackness. So that was kind of worth the lack of sleep. But only kind of.

As a sidenote, I saw others dealing with the absurdly early flight by drinking at the airport while waiting in the morning. Beer for one older couple, hard liquor for another poured into their coffee. At 5:00 am. In the morning.
 

Franklin & Marshall sold the rights to its name and it's now
become very fashionable to wear things with their logo. I've
seen it all over Europe but it still makes me think
of Lancaster every time!

Upon landing yesterday, I took a train to the university (Louvain la Neuve Université) where Emmanuelle is a linguistics professor and got to sit on one of her French as a Foreign Language classes. I understood approximately 15 words, so I was pretty definitively at the bottom of the class. As Martin had off school, he then met us for lunch on campus where we had a real college cafeteria lunch together. The full university experience!

The famous, and faraway, lion statue

As I didn’t really come to Belgium to be a tourist (although I still am, of course) but rather to see the Eeckhouts, my time here is pretty much just about “chilling” with the family and seeing their everyday life. So I saw a little bit of Emmanuelle’s work life and in the afternoon I saw her Taxi Mom life, running errands, picking Emile up at school, dropping Martin off with a friend, picking one up here, dropping one off there, more errands… (so THAT is what mom’s lives are like). In the evening, while Pierre and Emmanuelle had a meeting, I spent the evening with the boys, just talking and looking at pictures and laughing while eating pizza. Quite nice indeed.

The Count's castle

Saturday I got to sleep in (much needed after my previous night’s lack of sleep, aaaah). More chilling, more errands, more dropping kids off here and there and also seeing Emile’s swim meet. Emmanuelle and I also took a drive out to the countryside to check some things out. We first went to the site of the Waterloo battle to see the now famous Butte du Leon statue that stands there to commemorate the battle. Having decided that in and of itself was touristy/educational enough, we opted to save our euros and take pics from afar. It’s way cooler that way.

Emile getting ready to take off

We then went to see a castle that is still occupied by a local noble family. Amazing in and of itself that people still live like royalty in castles here. Even more amazing is that, as it turns out, I know one of them! I didn’t know it at the time as he never mentioned it, but one of the other Belgians that I had taught in Lancaster a few years ago is a bonified Belgian Count, coming from a long line of counts. As in sort of royalty (his cousin just married the prince of Liechtenstein this past weekend). Check me out, I know a Count!

Pierre, Emmanuelle and I with our fine Belgian beers

This evening we went to a great restaurant for dinner with some other friends: Stephan and Lutgarde. They had also spent some time living in Lancaster with their children and I’d met them there, and also visited them here in Belgium two years ago while on my RTW trip. We had some Belgian beer, we had some wine, we had some Belgian croquettes, we had great dinners, and we definitely had the best tiramisu I’ve ever had (made with Belgian speculoos). We also had a great time.

So far, living the life in Belgium is suiting me just fine!

P.S. Happy Birthday, Mom! And Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad!!

Just a Hop, Skip and a Jump to... Sweden!

Since yesterday turned into such a perfect Copenhagen day, I decided that would be a good note to end on in that country (best not to push my luck, eh?) so today I opted not to spend any more time here and instead to spend the day in… Sweden! It never ceases to amaze me (yes, some of us are more easily amused than others) how simple it is to go from country to country here. Kind of like me taking a trip at home from Lancaster to Philadelphia for the day. But much, much cooler and with way better scenery.

It turns out that you can take a train from the center of Copenhagen, Denmark and within 20 minutes arrive in the city of Malmö, Sweden. So why on earth would I NOT do that? As I’ve said, Copenhagen took a few days to win me over. Malmö did so immediately. Funny that Sweden was a secondary destination on this jaunt to Denmark and yet I ended up liking it even better in some ways.

The moment you walk out of the central train station and across the canal into the city, you’re in the center of the old part of town, which just screams charm. Remarkable how completely and utterly different two towns only 20 minutes apart can be. Yes, I know they’re different countries, but still. The architecture is very old school Sweden and their old town square just makes you want to set up camp immediately and never leave.

As I always do, I spent the day walking, walking and more walking. Seven hours of walking, to be exact (by the end of this trip, I will be shocked if I don’t qualify for the Olympic Liesurely Strolling finals). After a most delightful lunch in the old square (where, I might add, I actually got to, gasp!, take off my jacket and bask in the warm sun while dining) I walked through parks and by castles and down major thoroughfares and through winding, tiny alleys and over cobblestone and around lakes and up hills and over canals and through university campuses and back up to, inevitably, the old town square to cap off my day with a coffee and a Swedish pastry while people watching. But of course.

Malmö wasn’t ALL charm though; at one point I wandered a bit too far south, down into the somewhat dodgy end where it looked like any other old, soulless, non-descript city. Back to old town, pronto! On my way back I came upon a lovely, bustling outdoor market… just as all of the vendors were packing up. But I did wander through a small park and randomly happened upon an albino kangaroo (yes, an albino kangaroo). I don’t have photographic evidence of this so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

After my coffee back in the square, I finally tore myself away (I’m telling you, I wanted to put down stakes) and set off for yet more leisurely strolling through the city while the sun was setting on it. I ended the day by sitting down by the water long after the sun had gone and soaking as much of it in as possible before heading back across the famous Oresund Bridge to Copenhagen.

So even though there were no Swedish meatballs, Swedish fish or trips to Ikea, for my money, it  was a great day spent in Sweden!