(Much of the following was written in my journal at 4:00 in the morning in Manchester airport after traveling all night.)

Didn’t they learn their lesson? Didn’t they learn when they started WWI by not letting the Germans in? No, Belgium has not learned. It has been so hard getting to Belgium that at 4:00 in the morning I threw down 200 Pounds for a plane ticket just to Brussels.

 The problems all began weeks ago, now I sit before sunrise in an airport 200 pounds poorer. With the knowledge I’ve caused two fellow travelers great financial burden. It all began with a whim, cheap bus tickets and an open weekend. It started out with “Brussels—why not?” We’d never even considered Brussels, or Belgium till we saw there were cheap bus tickets. People come to Europe and they go to London, Rome, Paris, Oktoberfest, Amsterdam, Prague, Ireland, Barcelona. Who goes to Belgium? Extreme waffle enthusiasts? So, something new. Something a little different. Off the beaten path. A quick internet search revealed that Brussels was quite beautiful, and she was cheap so we were on board to buy our tickets.

See She’s pretty.

Pretty, yes, but not cheap. Soon she became the girl that turned us down, and it only made us want her more, and more, and more. Every rejection festered within us. Each failed attempt to woo the beautiful lady made us want to stalk her more. We became infatuated with Brussels. The bus tickets were cheap, yes. But the website denied us again, and again. Soon our mouths were watering for those Belgian chocolates. The smell of their waffles was wafting right under our noses, but we could not eat them. England’s ales grew dull as we longed for the lagers of another land. 

Check out the size of those brussel sprouts…

So the dream was put away. We headed York for a weekend full of adventures and misadventures you can read about in my blog about how it pays to be a loud American. Our dream had not died though. It was put on the back burner while we were in York, and when we returned the kettle was screaming as the water boiled over. We prepared for a long weekend in Paris desperately trying to purchase bus tickets to Brussels. We were further frustrated by a blessing in disguise. We had no idea yet, but it was the grace of God that we were denied by that coach site. Later, we would joke that the coach site was denying us because they knew it would simply be too much for someone to ride their coaches consecutive weekends. This was after spending 16 hours on one of these coaches over the course of a weekend; after finding that their coaches were devoid of leg room, fresh air, people with knowledge of deodorant, and babies with an understanding of the concept of shutting up. We wouldn't find any of this out till the weekend though, and being kept out of Belgium was getting personal so we began to explore other options.

A ferry was looked into but scrapped. Finally we found Ryan air and decided that the last thing old Brussels would expect was an aerial attack. Ryan air had flights for 10 Pounds there, and 10 euros back, how could we say no? We had no idea how hard it would be just to say yes. So after missing out on some transportation deals this semester due to waiting, we went ahead and purchased our tickets to Brussels—content, for the moment, with the knowledge that we would be going to Brussels, we would worry about getting back the next day.

When it comes to booking trips, I double check. I triple check. I quadruple check. I do this for dates, for locations for times. I try to make sure every detail is in order before pressing the button to pay. Yet it was not till we were at the airport at 4:00 in the morning, two hours and twenty minutes before our flight—or at least we thought it was our flight—was set to take off for Brussels­­ that we realized our departure tickets were for Thursday morning the following week, and we were flying on a Friday. Somehow I had not only gotten the date wrong, but also the day of the week. There is no way to explain how this felt especially when you add in the fact that to save time and streamline things I had bought my girlfriend Katelyn’s ticket as well as our friend Anna’s ticket (this was also 4:00 in the morning on Anna’s birthday). It’s as if this whole time you think you’ve been travelling with your stomach intact in your body and then you get to the airport and you realize, you’ve left your stomach three hours away back in the manor. 

So we went to a desk to find out what could be done. We were told that there were about 40 seats left on the plane, but if we wanted one of those seats it was going to cost us about 200 pounds. After a quick sidebar we decided that since we had a hotel booked, and our return flights were correct we would bite the bullet and shell out the money necessary to get on the plane. So after a scary and costly few minutes we were back on track, and once again headed to Brussels. We made it through customs,—where Chet found out you can’t bring a corkscrew on a plane—and had an easy and uneventful flight to Brussels Chaleroi airport which we then found out was a 120 euro cab ride to the center of Brussels. Luckily, there were shuttles and we were able to each purchase a ticket from the airport to the city and back for only 22 Euros.

Our stay in Brussels was great. We had a lovely dinner our first night there in the main square, then hit the town. We did flaming shots at one bar, and ended the night in a bar that had three different serving bars, one with all different types of Belgian Beers, one with all different types of rum and tequila, and the third had all different types of absinthe. The next day, Saturday, we were able to purchase train tickets to Bruges for Sunday. That night was Nuit Blanche which is a festival that Brussels has held the last ten years. It begins at 7 p.m. and goes until 7 a.m. There are all sorts of food vendors and little free exhibits all over the city. Since beer is such a big part of the Belgian culture it was easy to walk into a convenient store and purchase what would be a really nice expensive import craft beer in the U.S. for very cheap. We did this all night, and walked around checking out all the different things going on. There were churches open with exhibits inside, projections on buildings, people creating art, and parties with DJs and live music. It was a great night to be in Brussels experiencing their culture. A big part of which is their fries which come in paper cones. They take their fries extremely seriously in Belgium, and for good reason. French Fries were invented in Belgium, and I’ve never had such great fries in my life.

 The next morning we woke up, got some more Fries and hopped on a train to Bruges. Bruges is a small, and exceptionally beautiful town just an hours train ride from Brussels. It is a canal town often called the Venice of the north. There is little to do in Bruges other than walk around and admire how beautiful the town is. We were quite fortunate because although it rained the first two days we were in Brussels we had wonderful weather for our day in Bruges. It was a perfect fall day, the air was crisp and the trees were just starting to get tinges of color in their leaves we couldn’t have asked for a better day to walk around, do a little antiquing and enjoy a city.

My one recommendation if you’re ever in Bruges is to avoid eating in the main square as the food is overprice compared to other areas and as is the case with many tourist restaurants it is not very good. We ate at an Italian restaurant in their main square and I’ve had better meals prepared by chef Boyardee. Yet this didn’t ruin our day in Bruges. If you’re ever in Brussels, and have the time I highly recommending spending just a day or two in Bruges, it’s well worth the trip just to take a relaxing stroll around and take in the beauty. 

One last thing about Brussels, their most famous statue or landmark—and we didn’t find this out until we got there—is a little boy pissing into a fountain. Seriously this kid is everywhere. You can get him on corkscrews, bottle openers, key chains, chocolate, as a life sized replica for your own fountain, and of course on postcards. The little guy is interesting because there are many different stories about his origins. He’s about five hundred years old (to put that in perspective he’s only about a hundred years younger than the statue of David). We saw his picture and replicas at every tourist shop for a while before ever actually seeing him or even had any idea where he was. Indeed he is at a pretty random street corner and there is not much in terms of markings or signs to point you towards him. Both times we saw the little guy during the day he was dressed up in something different, but when we saw him at night he was naked. It was just a very odd thing to be such a huge tourist attraction for the city.

 Belgium, is a wonderful country. It is clean, and the people were friendly. They make the best chocolate in the world. Their waffles are outtasight. The place is a beer lovers dream, and if you consider yourself any kind of French Fry connoisseur Belgium is without a doubt the place for you. It is full of lovely architecture and has a very European feel, if you know what I mean—it is also not overly touristy.

Also, you just might get lucky like us, and see a celebrity in the airport. As you can see in the picture above that is clearly Santa Claus doing his best attempt at being incognito. We spotted old Chris Kringle in departures of the Brussels airport. I believe he was in Belgium picking up chocolates to stuff in stockings. I’m hoping he’ll stuff some Belgian fries in my stocking this Christmas.