Farewell to the Netherlands

After yesterday's day on the trains, we didn't even try to go outside all morning.  Just hung out in Becca's apartment and talked about what she is doing at school. (This particular school deals with business on a theoretical rather than practical level, which suits her just fine...the only trouble is they take the Master of Science part very seriously and they insist on a scientific process for creating experiments and gathering data for a thesis. She thinks a thesis is just unnecessary in this program.)  I finally understood that this program is much closer to sociology and psychology, which is another reason R. likes it. It's not about being an entrepreneur, it's about organizational psychology. She finds it all interesting, and that is a relief since she might not have completely understood what she was getting into when she chose this one.

All morning we sat in front of the window looking out over the roundabout with buses and trucks and cars and bicycles
(we don't understand why this photo doesn't show bicycles) busily and efficiently getting through the intersection.

We finally roused ourselves to go out for lunch.  Went to another bright and wholesome lunch place with vegan options, fancy juices, high quality options.  We had a lovely, lazy lunch and then walked a half block to the train station where we had stashed our bags for a few hours.

Confidence was not high,
but the agent came through.

Inevitably, we had 30 minutes of excitement when the fancy locker refused to take our ticket.  Jon and R. asked three different people for help, got sent from one office to the next while the minutes ticked by. Finally they found a station agent who went and got a special key and a machine and a little book with some codes (only after trying to put the ticket in the slot about 12 more times). I started to think about what Plan B might look like, since there wasn't another bus for us today. She finally got the door open at 2:50, we cheered and charged off to the bus.  We were the last ones on the bus and for the first time in six countries, the bus driver examined our passports carefully. We probably looked a little scruffy, with only a few bags and rushing in at the last minute.










Arrived in Brussels just a few minutes before sunset.  Walked a half mile or so through a decidedly seedy part of town, complete with ladies in the windows in a small Red Light District, but pretty soon we got past that to a non-descript area with our anonymous and unremarkable hotel.  I was ready for a more transactional type of place to stay, one that didn't require us to be in relationship with anyone. And Jon agreed because it was in fact the cheapest housing that met our needs.

For dinner we walked up to a lively street with lots of restaurants.  We were aiming for a Bulgarian restaurant that was well reviewed. It was cozy and small, full of regulars (we could tell who they were because they knew how to close the door correctly on the first try). The prices were unexpectedly low -- a beer for two euros?  A truly delicious bowl of real chicken soup for 3.50. I got a main course of a pot of lamb stew and Jon got a nice kebab. And it was the first restaurant with music that was not American pop. In fact, for a minute we thought we were hearing a version of Sto Mi E Milo and we had to look up where Bulgaria is, how close to Macedonia.  Right next door. We lingered and spied on what everyone else was eating, even though we had eaten as much as we wanted, and then some.

One more day of tourist life.  We have a plan.  We will see if any of it comes true.