Trip to Brussels

Astonishingly, I made it here without getting bruised/maimed/lost/panicky. The downside is that it’s crappy outside and gray. I’ll recap the day.

I woke up at 7:00 this morning, and realized that I hadn’t really packed much of anything. I spent an hour shoving things into my little carry-on (the one that faithfully accompanied me during my homeless phase) and worrying that I was forgetting something. After I shut all the doors and locks and made sure the stove was turned off, I found out that it was really, really nasty and raining. Gross! I attached the garbage bag that I planned to throw out to the handle of the suitcase to act as a lame shield that was very ineffective. I made it to the train station just fine and had no problems getting to Nimes. Excellent. Here is a picture of the cabin.

At Nimes, no one seemed to know there was a shuttle that went to the airport. Heck, one guy I asked didn’t even know there was an airport. He said, “are you sure you’re not talking about Montpellier?” That worried me. Finally, I found a hotel and asked the desk lady who was very helpful and she showed me the schedule and stupid me thought that it was already 10:40 so I was like, yippee, I only have to wait ten minutes. Well, no. It was only 9:40. I went all the way back to the train station and chilled in the waiting room reading a book for an hour.
That shuttle was pricey. Five euros! I was thinking that it would be two or three. But it turns out that this ‘airport’ (I don’t know why I just used quotes) was freaking miles away from the actual town of Nimes. I think the airport falsely advertised. We went on highways, under overpasses, through countryside, and it took about a half hour to get there. It’s still raining at this point.

There were absolutely no problems getting my ticket. I was expecting some sort of resistance, but all I got was some itty bitty piece of paper that had an advertisement on one side and my name on the other. No seat number, no nothing. Halfway through the check-in line I said to myself, ‘oh crap’, but with a little more force. I had completely forgotten about the whole ‘no liquids on the plane, dude’ rule. Crap! I had so many gels and liquids and pastes that I would have to throw my whole suitcase away. I thought, oh what the heck, I’m already in line, I’ll see how good their security is. It’s pretty good. They made me take my suitcase back to the main lobby and either empty it or check it. I figured that if I threw out my shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, etc., I would just have to buy new stuff in Belgium, then throw that stuff away when I came home on Friday. So I ponied up the extra ten euros to check my one tiny bag. Lame.
I had to get back into that behemoth of a line, and eventually got patted and wanded for the second time. They were very, very thorough about patting me down. It got weird.

Anyway, by the time I made it through security they were already boarding. I figured out why I didn’t receive a seat number – because you can pick your own, like a choice buffet. I meandered into the middle, since I figured everyone was just going to clog up the ends anyway, might as well not have a neighbor. That plan worked, right up until we left when a mom and her five year old sat right next to me. Perfect. He was cute as heck, and didn’t cry, but sheesh! He was physically incapable of not asking questions. Every two seconds it was “maman, pourquoi …..” Like, Mom why aren’t we taking off yet? Why are those flaps coming off? What is the pilot saying? Why are we taxiing on the runway? How high are we going to go? I shoved my earplugs in and tuned that boy out.

Check out this super-sweet video of the plane taking off.

Frankly, the flight was boring. However, I did have the choice reading material of the Ryanair catalog. Those things are gosh-darn expensive! It was like five euros for a sandwich and three euros for Pringles. No Pringles will ever be worth that. Do you see the mountains in the picture? Are those the Alps?

Hah, I thought paying five euros for the shuttle was pricey? Try Eleven Fifty one-way! Amazing! Apparently, Brussels has no qualms either about donating its namesake to an airport that was literally fifty-one kilometers away. Fifty one! Wow! We were practically in France. I sat next to some boring Italian man.

I found the Metro after much intense map-staring. Besides smelling like pee, it was surprisingly easy to use. Also easy was finding my hostel. Great directions! So I picked up my electronic room key (fancy!) and now am here sitting on a blanket on the floor typing this out, since it’s Sunday night and nothing is ever open. My bed has one of those rubber sheets that feels like a balloon. I hate that texture. I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to post it, since the hostel folk are charging eight cents a minute for the internet downstairs, which is highway robbery. Later.

By the way, this is the lovely, breathtaking view from outside my window. Maybe they're building another hostel.