Our first bit of culture shock was discovering that in addition to everything being written in French and Dutch (and not English), half the people we encountered don't speak English and those who do don't know where anything is.
We didn't have a map but a couple kind souls let us look onto theirs, which were nothing short of confusing due to all the bilingual street names that appear to follow no particular pattern. Times like these make me grateful for our grid system back home.
We got food and I had cheese fondue, which was good, but certainly not what I was expecting (think less what Americans consider fondue and more like fried cheese). Elia's pasta was acceptable but clearly something that had been frozen and just heated up.
And the waffle. Ohhhh the waffle. For dessert we ordered a Belgian waffle (duh) and in addition to taking forever, it was freezerburnt, rock solid and tasted like communion wafers. No thanks. Luckily, Elia pointed out it was no good and we weren't charged for it. She then took a picture to send to Rich, and the picture message was returned undeliverable. That bad, huh?
But the moment that takes the cake (aside from some dude in our train car whose cell phone keeps blowing up with some disco pop track every five minutes) is when we purchased two round-trip train tickets to Bruges. While waiting to board, a man eager to get on the train knocked into her arm, causing her ticket to fall below the train.
Rather than do the unethical thing and dodge fare (which we likely could get away with, seeing as no one has checked our tickets on anything) we decided to hunt someone down and explain our situation.
Of course, she was entirely unsympathetic and made Elia purchase another one on the spot. Fortunately, a nice gentleman employee gave us a slip of paper with information explaining how to go about getting a refund for the initial ticket. It's a process we're hoping to take care of when we return to Brussels, because filing by Internet is simply annoying.
So the moral of the story is: well, there are a few. One: don't go to Brussels unless you speak French or Dutch. Two: being honest does not pay (so much for good karma).
Of course, there are plenty of good things here worth mentioning, but I'll save those for another entry.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
See, I told you that I should have gone with you...I do speak some French and have tons of experience retrieving tickets from under trains...which comes from very close observation of the tracks..like having my tongue stuck on the track for several minutes!!!!! Sorry your waffle was awfull!
ReplyDeleteWell ... while you were having a boring time in Belgium, we were experiencing a mystery of sorts here stateside.
ReplyDeleteYesterday morning, your mother went outside to water the garden and discovered that one of the cat feeders was GONE! It was like someone (or something) had picked it up and walked off with it.
In addition, the auto feeder inside Matt's house had been turned upside down and was wedged sideways in the house, the whole of which was dragged halfway across the patio.
After a careful investigation, we discovered the cause: WE HAVE A RACOON FAMILY living in Rincon Valley.
So now, every night we have to put the feeders inside the strong box to keep the critters out of our yard.
The next morning, your mother awoke to scratching sounds. Fearing racoons had gotten under the house, she called me to report her fears. I thought they may have taken residence in Nathan's kayak, or perhaps poltergeists have begun a haunting on Raters Drive.
A short while later, your mother discovered the culprit. It seems her shaving cream can started to lose pressure and was emitting short spurts of propellant, which sounded like a faint scratching.
I wonder what will be tomorrow.