Belgium

In the morning Claire and Rachel flew back to Spain and Anna and I caught a bus to Belgium for the second half of our trip. On the bus ride we met such a nice Canadian couple, and planned to meet up with them again but in the end our phones didn’t work. You sad fact of the matter is you can never truly count on Yoigo. Where is Verizon when you need it?

Whereas Paris was more about seeing the city and the famous cites, Belgium was more memorable for the experiences we had there. Since Anna and I were very conscious of our draining bank accounts, we decided to couchsurf every night in Belgium. Couchsurfing is a website where strangers all over the world offer their couch or extra bed to travelers for free. It is awesome because not only do you not have to pay for housing, but you also get a chance to meet locals who know the city and who can potentially become new friends.

The two places we intended to visit in Belgium were Bruges and Brussels, but because someone offered to host us in Ghent, we also made a stop there. Ghent turned out to be our favorite spot in Belgium, and our host told us that according to Lonely Planet, it’s the hidden gem! It’s such a charming town with a river flowing in and out of the city, gorgeous old buildings, and a lively feel because it has a university. We met our host Stefan at a bar near his house. Immediately he bought Anna and me a round of beers, and we chatted in the bar for two hours getting to know him. He’s a pretty cool guy, and retains a youthful vibe at age 41. We dropped off our stuff in his apartment and went with him and a friend to the local Christmas market, where there was outdoor ice skating, a Ferris wheel, and lots and lots of warm drinks. Stefan and Evelyn (his friend) bought Anna and I some mulled wine and then a round of hot chocolate and Bailey’s, and we hung out with them for a while and bought the next round. (When it’s winter in Northern Europe can you really do much else than drink mulled wine?)

Ghent

Couchsurfing!

With a name like "Ho Garden," we had to try it. I liked it, Anna didn't.

The next day we headed to Bruges, supposedly a fairytale town. It was cute but a little overrated. There was a chocolate shop every two feet, which was delicious but tedious. The old women running most of the chocolate stores also sort of seemed like they hated their lives—they’ve probably seen one too many tourist entering their shop for free samples. In Bruges we tried our first of many Belgian waffles, which definitely do live up to their hype. Even better than French crepes, in my opinion. Bruges was so freezing that we only stayed a couple of hours there, not to mention the place is tiny so that is all we really needed to see every square foot of the town.

Ok, Bruges is pretty quaint.

Mmmmm Belgian chocolates!

We came back to Gent and I took a long nap. The greatest thing about this trip is that we had so much downtime—even in Paris we would sleep in till 10 or 10:30 most days. Since we were only seeing two countries in ten days we didn’t feel the need to race around or wake up at dawn to see the sights. Also, since we weren’t paying for housing in Belgium, we didn’t feel guilty about lounging a lot.

When Stefan got home from work he asked us, “So, are you ready for mussels?” It turns out that he was going to make us a massive feast for our last night!! I can’t believe how generous some people are. Anna has been a vegetarian for seven years, and made a valiant decision to eat the seafood in order to be gracious. But not just a mussel or two—that girl and I each crammed down three servings. It was my first time ever having mussels, and I have to say I won’t be ordering them any time soon in a restaurant, but they were pretty interesting.

The next day we took the train to Brussels and met our next couchsurfing host, Hetram. It was definitely not as great a situation as in Ghent, but still preferable to paying for hostels! He was sort of awkward and timid, but still very generous. He even let us sleep in his bed both nights while he took the couch, and he showed us all around the city the first day.

Brussels also has amazing Christmas markets. I’m so glad we visited these countries in December, because in California I never get a very strong Christmas vibe. We walked around the city a ton and saw some beautiful buildings, but there is definitely less to do in Brussels than in a city like Paris. We spent a good amount of time hopping from chocolate shop to chocolate shop, filling up on samples and buying chocolate gifts. We also saw Mannekin Pis, the peeing boy statue that is oh so famous in Belgium. It’s like the Mona Lisa—everyone is obsessed with seeing it and then it turns out to be about 12 inches tall. Also the question must be asked, why do the Belgians worship a figure of a toddler going to the bathroom? It’s beyond me, but the statue is right next to a one-euro waffle place so of course I was content.

Kind of awkward if you ask me.

You know it's a great country when this is what they're famous for.

On Saturday we left with ample time to get to the airport and catch our plane. We asked the attendant at the train station the best way to get to the airport, and he told us the exact platform and train to take. Easy as pie. We boarded the train, but after an hour we were both wondering when the stop would be, since the airport is theoretically a 45-minute ride. But there were no conductors for a while and no one on the train seemed to know our destination, which made us even more worried. After a bit longer a conductor finally came to punch our ticket, and told us we were on the wrong train. I still have no idea how this happened, since the train platform had our destination and time written correctly. Anyway, we were forced to stay on the train until it turned around, since none of the subsequent stops had connecting trains to the airport. We literally rode it into France before it switched directions. We eventually caught another train that delivered us to the airport town no less than 20 minutes before our flight departed. We still clung to a one-percent hope that we could possible make our flight, but it turns out that the bus that runs from the train station to the airport only leaves every hour, and we missed it by five minutes. Just our luck! We arrived at the airport at 6, one hour after our flight left. It was the first time in my life that I missed a flight. If this had happened a few years ago I would be panicking, but I’m proud to say that I was pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I guess the Spanish pace of life is getting to me!

We went to the Ryanair ticket window and explained our situation, and we each had to pay 110 euros in cash to change our flight. Luckily there was a flight at 8:15 pm to Madrid that still had room. When we returned to the ticket window after withdrawing cash from an ATM, the attendant said to us, “Actually, there’s a little problem. You only have one hour from your previous flight’s departure time to change your ticket.” It was 6:09 p.m, nine minutes too late. I wish someone had taken a picture of our expressions. That was all we needed after missing trains, then buses, then planes. We basically begged the guy to pity us, but it was hard to be cute and pity-able when both of us hadn’t showered in about 3 days and looked beyond haggard. Then I came up with our bargaining tool: when we first approached the ticket window before we went to the ATM, it was probably before 6! The guy called his supervisor and probably lied a bit in our favor, and eventually we were able to change our tickets instead of buying completely new ones, which would have cost way more than 110 euros. Finally some silver lining!

Our beloved euros thrown down the drain. 

When we landed in Madrid we tried to catch an 11:30 pm bus heading to Granada, so we wouldn’t have to wait 2 more hours for the 1:30 a.m. bus. I felt like we were on The Amazing Race. We were sprinting with our bulky backpacks through the airport, racing through metro stations, and panting like crazy. (I also randomly ran into a college friend on the Madrid Metro—such a small world!) At 11:29 we reached the metro stop at the bus station, and I swear to God the run through the tunnels and up the escalator was like a life-or death situation, not a matter of waiting 2 hours in a bus station. We ran to buy our tickets, sweating and breathing way too hard, and the woman behind the window informed us that the 11:30 bus never existed, there was only the 1:30 a.m. one. Absolutely great! We ate away our depression at a kebab restaurant, and it felt good to at least be back in Spain. We knew we were out of Belgium when the restaurant workers didn’t even start making Anna’s falafel until the fútbol game between Madrid and Barcelona (playing on all TVs in the restaurant) was over, a sure sign that we were indeed in Spain again. Then, when it seemed like the restaurant was closing so Anna and I started packing up our half-eaten kebabs, I heard that beloved Spanish phrase, “Tranquila, tranquila! No pasa nada!” Basically, “eat in peace.” No pasa nada was like music to my ears after a day of so many roadblocks. 

We finally arrived back in Granada at 6:30 a.m., and as I was walking back to my piso the streets were filled with people just leaving the discotecas. Paris and Belgium were great, but oh, Spain, how I missed     you.