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Date:
July 14, 2002
Hello from Brussels !
I am seated on the stone railing of an opulent hotel
that overlooks The Grand Place in the heart of the
city. The hum of many different languages drifts up
from the tourist who pass below on the cobblestone
sidewalk. I do not pretend to have the literary skill
to truly convey what lies before me. The vast square
is bordered by an array of extremely ornate buildings
of different architectural styles. My preference is
the Gothic Town Hall that rockets 300 feet into the
sky. The longer I gaze at it the more I find to
appreciate.
Brussels has a cosmopolitan feel that I found lacking
in the UK. There are groups of musicians playing
classical music with their violins and cellos. Endless
outdoor cafes, beer halls, restaraunts and shops add
to this calm sophistication.
The language barrier has resurfaced. In Belgium (
depending which region) they speak French, Flemish or
Dutch. In the larger cities English is sometimes
spoken.
The rumors that the French are unfriendly towards
anyone who does not speak French are ridiculous. After
landing in Zeebrugge I ventured south close to the
French border. I speak absolute no French but
communicating with hand symbols I was given all that I
asked for. In one instance I was frustrated at my
inability to locate a supermarket. The woman held out
her hand which signified me to wait. Soon she returned
with a plastic grocery bag with the stores name and
hand written directions. These small acts of kindness
make an immense difference. Navigating a new country
can be dis-orienting.
The weather does remind me of the UK. Gone is the
incessant, ominous cold of Scotland. Still present are
the grey skies and constant threat of showers. My
original intent was to cycle through the Arden Forest
before turning north to Brussels. A steady rain on my
tent changed my mind.
In Edinburgh I was reunited with my friend Dan. Dan is
also cycling across Europe. I was saddened to see that
our paths will not cross again. Dan is riding south to
Spain after a brief stay in Paris. As always it was
good to see a familiar face. Good luck Dan !
On the ferry ride form Scotland to Belgium I realized
my definition of travel is forever warped. I met Calum
who is a school teacher form Scotland. Calum had
worked for a year in the US through a work exchange
program. He never became accustomed to the shotguns
that graced the rear windows of the pickup trucks in
Carson City, Nevada. He did love the freedom and fast
pace of the US and when I met him he was in the
process of moving to Rome where he and his wife and
daughter were starting a new life. I thought to myself
this is an adventurous man. Then Calum admitted that
he did not feel comfortable leaving the boat without a
predetermined driving route to Rome. I pondered
Calum's pre-planning as I disembarked into a country
where I do not speak the language. With 100 euros
stuffed in my pocket and no map I knew that life would
never be the same.
A humorous note about Calum. He corrected a badly
translated flyer supplied to the passengers on our
Greek operated ferry. He then turned in the corrected
version to the reception desk. I think he gave them a
C minus. This is a man who loves his job.
I miss you all,
Dennis
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