Bruges and Brussels

So late last night I got back from my weekend excursion to Bruges and Brussels (Belgium). I had a great time for the most part and am really happy that I decided to make such a random trip. Bruges is such a peaceful city, and it's like going back in time when you walk down the streets and think about how old every building is. I needed to go somewhere where I could appreciate the silence and Bruges was just that place.

However my travels definitely did not start out calmly. I had to catch a train from the Brussels airport out to Bruges. The directions I had gotten off the internet (a site that looked legit) said to take a train to Brussels Zuni/Midi station and switch to a train that was going towards one of four cities, one of which was De Panne. But when I bought my ticket I thought the guy behind the counter said that I wouldn't have to change. I figured I would just ask the conductor after I got on board but of course no conductor walked through. I started to get really nervous. I didn't know what to do. The train wasn't crowded at all and I was too nervous to ask the group of rough looking men speaking Dutch (maybe?). When we got to Zuni/Midi I looked out of the train and saw that the board said that the train I was going on was going to Le Panne. I breathed a sigh of relief and stayed on the train. Just like the directions said, the next stop was Ghent and then after that should've been Bruges.

But it wasn't.

Panic really started to set in. Should I wait and see if a conductor comes through? Should I get off at the next stop and hope that someone there can help me? The next two stations were very small and I didn't see an office of any kind to ask for info. I wasn't going to get off the train and be stuck in middle of nowhere Belgium. I was debating just staying on until the end and figuring things out then when finally the conductor walked through. He knew some English and took pity on me, seeing the tears starting to form in my eyes. He let me ride through on my incorrect ticket and let me know where I could get off to switch trains to Bruges. When I got to that station I ran to catch the next train and nearly twisted my ankle on a particularly slippery set of stairs. (Did I mention that it was pouring rain? Yes, pouring rain, crazy wind and low temperatures throughout my entire stay in Belgium- definitely didn't help anything.) The conductor on that train didn't speak any English but he understood what had happened and just gave me a smile.

(Did you catch the mistake I made? De Panne is NOT the same as Le Panne. I looked at the directions from the website too quickly and paid the price for my failure to pay attention to detail.)

I made it to Bruges about an hour behind schedule, but it didn't matter much. I was just happy that things had worked out. I had kept myself from the point of being hysterical and I know that no matter what happened I would've figured out a solution.

My main problem in Bruges was having the fuck it all attitude necessary to speak English in a foreign country and worry if people understand you afterwards. I had thought that I could get by on my little knowledge of French (left over from Paris) but they actually speak Flemish (a dialect of Dutch) in Bruges. French was a second language on things like menus so that helped a little bit but it just didn't make sense for me to use a language that I barely know to communicate to people that didn't use that language as their own.

I just felt so insecure about what to say that I was silent until someone asked if I spoke English. Obviously it's not very productive to rely on hand gestures and smiles, but I just got so shy. It felt wrong when I spoke English, I felt guilty for being yet another foreigner. Bruges is a nice small town that has been flooded with tourists. The people there must get so frustrated to see people all the time taking pictures and remarking about how quaint everything is. I felt like I hadn't had the common courtesy to learn some of the basic words in the native language. I was worried that merci/pardon etc. (french) would be worse than not saying anything at all, like somehow they would know that I was a foreigner pretending that she knew the local language- and was sadly mistaken. Looking back, I'm pretty sure they didn't care and wouldn't have even noticed if I spoke English because you hear it all the time there.

The parts of Belgium that I saw seem to be very flexible with language. In a short train ride you go from one dominant language to another to another. The announcements correspond to the geography of the moment. I can't imagine what it would be like if regions of the U.S. each had their own language. We are such a monolinguistic society, it's awful. I know that Spanish proficiency is increasing, but there is definitely a prevailing attitude that to be an American is to speak English and that our concept of identity is so wrapped up in language that we often don't give the respect to other languages that they deserve. I wonder if it will be a relief or a total mindfuck when I go to London and have (little to) no language barrier. I know that there are still a lot of cultural differences to explore, but somehow it doesn't feel like the same intensity of adventure.

Overall it was interesting to see how different language can co-exist in the same country. In Brussels (about an hour by train from Bruges) everything is in Dutch and French. It truly is a bilingual city. Everywhere you look things are written twice. Barcelona could learn a thing or two...

I can't believe how much awful for you stuff I ate this past weekend. Apparently what we call french fries were actually invented in Belgium. Bruges has a fry museum, so it must be true. So I had to try some fries with the traditional mayonnaise sauce. Combined with my indulgences into the other two "foods" Belgium is known for, chocolate and waffles, I'm really surprised I didn't puke at some point. I wasn't out of control, but I also didn't want to spend a lot of money on food so besides having some of the treats all I ate was the free breakfast at the hostel which was corn flakes and rolls. After not having any real food for three days I had to make pasta the second I got home last night/early this morning. I need to reassess my distaste for spending money on food while traveling. At least the hostels for Rome, Madrid and London have kitchens, as the one in Bruges did not. I can cook some cheap stuff in the hostel and not have to feel guilty about going out all the time. I am probably more concerned about money than I should be, but it is frustrating to have to spend it on things like food when there are all of these once in a lifetime experiences I'm trying to have that are of course expensive.

I've been feeling a little nostalgic about my past lately. Of course I miss Boston, but I've also been thinking about other phases in my life and how I haven't done much to keep in touch with the vast majority of people that I used to have some sort of connection with. In most cases nothing happened that couldn't be resolved in someway. About 10 days or so after getting back to Boston I am going to Florida to see my little brother and then to Long Island to see my parents and hopefully my other two brothers- all of whom I haven't seen since last Christmas. I've been entertaining the thought of finding a couple of people from high school that wouldn't mind going to a dinner or something with me. I need to have some NY food, but I also feel like I could benefit from a little reconnection and reaffirmation that I have affected people in this world. Being in Spain has made me feel very isolated despite all of the lovely advances in technology. (I cannot imagine surviving here in the times before computers, having to rely on a phone call every once in a while with the people that you miss the most.) From this perspective I can see how important it is to have connections with others and since it is difficult for me to form such connections I shouldn't keep severing them without any good reason other than the lack of physical proximity. I can't exist alone, no one can, and I don't deserve to.

nikki