Some Brussels and other thoughts from Deb 4-25-15

*** It was lovely, setting off for a train trip again. We did our usual and took a picnic lunch. This time it was a house-made pate de campagne from our butcher, a favorite hard cheese (Napoleon), some crisp apples, olives, a baguette that I split and buttered at home, water and a little bottle of wine Warren had picked out. A couple of paper napkins to cover the train tables and we were off.

 

*** Only we were off to the wrong station. Somehow, we got our feeble minds confused with the station Warren had just bought Strasbourg tickets for. That trip will be with Elizabeth in May. Fortunately, we had set out early and we grasped the idea quickly, got back on the Metro and, only needing one stop, were at the right station, Gare du Nord. I re-learned how important it is to know your train number for finding the listing. Warren found the Thalys TGV tracks and we got on our lovely train with no further problems. Obviously, this was a shakedown cruise for us, train-wise. Be reassured, Elizabeth and Don, we’re much better in practice again now.

 

***Brussels in the area we were in is clean and pleasant. Beautiful historic buildings and a great town for walking, but with one caveat: you really need to watch where you’re walking. The picturesque cobblestones are treacherous to those of us who haven’t walked on them for a lifetime. Every now and again, one will be missing or sticking up above the others. There are treacherous projections from aged buildings and steps with highly irregular spacing and just whole varieties of things waiting to spring out and injure an old codger.

 

***Another bit of train confusion ambushed us when we went out to spend a day in picturesque Bruges, one of the best-preserved medieval towns in Europe and about an hour’s train ride from Brussels. We had read that trains ran frequently, and that you could catch them from Brussels’ Central Station. So off we went. Got there and found no trains mentioning Bruges. So this is where another aspect of Belgium kicks in. The country has two official languages – French and Dutch. We’d been ambling along merrily in French but now the only train person we could find spoke Dutch, although willing to listen to our question in French. You just can’t imagine how bad our comprehension of Dutch is (we spent an entire house-exchange in Holland unable to pronounce the name of our town without throwing the locals into gales of laughter.) In summary, we completely misunderstood what he wanted us to do and did the opposite. Got to another station, and found a posted train schedule and straightened ourselves out. We got to Bruges and had a lovely day, but it reinforced our determination to find hard-copy of train schedules. Especially since people in Bruges definitely speak Dutch and not French, and all train info after we left Brussels was only in Dutch, meaning that we couldn’t even recognize the station where we wanted to get off again in Brussels (Called “Midi” or middle in French, “Zuid” or south in Dutch and the same station. Go figure.) More shakedown cruising.

 

*** But after a dandy trip overall, we’re back in our quiet apartment in Paris. We’re especially grateful for the quiet since the police sirens in Brussels were the loudest we’ve ever heard. Brussels is of course the capital of the EEC, and as near as I can tell they must be making new laws all the time that their population is busy breaking out of ignorance. I’ve never heard so many sirens.

 
 

 

*** I had tried dedicatedly to empty of refrigerator before we left and use the food we had. I’m working on wasting less food due to spoilage, as I’ve mentioned earlier. So today the cupboard was well and truly bare. After a skimpy breakfast, we headed out to shop and loaded our faithful red grocery trolley to the groaning point. It was a banner day – the wine merchant took Warren’s name to keep track of his purchases in order to better recommend wines. And at our favorite cheese monger, we were offered a “fidelity card” which offers some sort of discount after a certain number of purchases. I’d seen a couple of other people getting theirs stamped (they are a homemade card that looks kind of like a business card with some squares for stamping), but like so many things, didn’t grasp what was going on. This is a rite-of-passage, kind of like becoming a “parsley person” at the fruit and veg sellers, when good customers get a helping of free parsley put in with their purchases. We haven’t achieved parsley status yet, but are childishly happy about the cheese card. Simple minds are happy minds.

 

*** Came home to a sumptuous lunch with all our purchases, so lavish in fact that we didn’t eat dinner. Warren was particularly pleased with my purchase of fromage blanc, the light fresh cheese that is sort of like what yoghurt dreams it might be. Fromage blanc is particularly a spring product when the cows are eating the new spring grass. It is light and low-fat and usually served as a dessert. Our cheese lady ladled it out of a big stainless steel bowl in the cooler. We ate it for dessert, drizzled with a bit of wildflower honey.