The morning dawned early. Erfana dropped me off at the airport around 7:30 am. Many baggage problems later, I paid Lord knows how much more in oversized fees to get my painting checked (which was slightly damaged) and ended up carrying on luggage as well.
Thankfully I had THREE seats in a row to myself during the long flight back to the States. I survived and even got some sleep. I’ve had to give Sudokus a rest after doing so many on that flight.
When I landed in Atlanta and went through customs, etc. there was a young man who had been on my flight and was having difficulty with his baggage or something. I helped him somehow (I don’t even remember how) and we got to chatting. He was headed to Guadalajara, Mexico and also had a long layover.
I found my gate and realized that I didn’t know what to do for the next five hours so I went off in search of the international terminal. Sure enough, I took a chance and found that same guy (whose name I can’t remember). We grabbed some drinks and chatted all about our experiences and cultural differences.
He was headed back to Mexico, where he had lived for a short time, to see his friends again. With him was a photo album of his family, friends, and girlfriend that I got to see. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon – practicing my Franglais.
After disembarking in Des Moines I walked down the flight of stairs to the waiting area to finally see my family! And … they weren’t there.
So, still depressed, I walked to the baggage claim where I found that my larger piece of luggage had been lost. While I was over at the claims desk my family came in. Kyle proceeded to tease me which he quickly found out was NOT a good thing to do – all things considered (like lack of sleep for 24 hours and not wanting to leave Europe).
On the way back to Ames I regaled my last horrific but hilarious 72 hours and then slept, slept, slept.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The Last Monday
After having spent the previous night doing one of my absolutely, most hated things - packing to go overseas – I had to say my goodbyes to Nicole and Oceane. What a sad day! That family took me into their home and their lives. They taught me both directly and indirectly but gave me the space and encouragement necessary to branch out. They hold a very special place in my life. I cannot wait until they come to America! (Hint, hint.)
And it got worse.
It was followed by the longest commute Paul and I ever took – 2.5 hours into Brussels. I was supposed to meet a painter at the metro stop near Erfana’s house at a certain time. I had to call to reschedule for later, thinking I would have plenty of time but barely making it.
I lugged my suitcase (and other bags and things because I had way too much stuff) through more public transit and met the painter at the metro stop. Turns out he was on my same train the whole time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time (as previously planned) to take my stuff to Erfana’s – so I invited Elias (the painter) to come back to her house with me. I really needed him for labor – there was no possible, physical way that I would be able to add a painting to my already full load.
Elias is an incredibly talented young painter. We talked for hours about life, traveling, family, being young, and taking advantage of every opportunity. He was one of those people that came in my life so briefly that it’s hard to believe that he was there. But now, I have his painting (and what would become the bane of my existence) to remind me even as I sit on my bed and look across the room.
And it got worse.
It was followed by the longest commute Paul and I ever took – 2.5 hours into Brussels. I was supposed to meet a painter at the metro stop near Erfana’s house at a certain time. I had to call to reschedule for later, thinking I would have plenty of time but barely making it.
I lugged my suitcase (and other bags and things because I had way too much stuff) through more public transit and met the painter at the metro stop. Turns out he was on my same train the whole time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time (as previously planned) to take my stuff to Erfana’s – so I invited Elias (the painter) to come back to her house with me. I really needed him for labor – there was no possible, physical way that I would be able to add a painting to my already full load.
Elias is an incredibly talented young painter. We talked for hours about life, traveling, family, being young, and taking advantage of every opportunity. He was one of those people that came in my life so briefly that it’s hard to believe that he was there. But now, I have his painting (and what would become the bane of my existence) to remind me even as I sit on my bed and look across the room.
I had procrastinated so much the day before I had decided to just go to this great museum in Brussels on Monday instead of Sunday. So I head back into the city to go to the museum but, duh, everything is closed on Mondays. “The Death of Marat” in its non-slide or digital picture state still eludes me.
So I did what any good traveler does – I wandered. But just because it was “one of those days,” of course it was raining. My walk took me past an orangerie that Nicole had told me about in a quaint, small park tucked in the middle of a bustling city.
Then I went and window shopped down the Avenue Louisa. I considered taking advantage of the lack of no open container laws and just hunkering down on a park bench with a bottle of wine but then my mood changed to classy.
After paying for a twenty euro glass of champagne and having a wonderful chat with a Luxembourgish jeweler, I set out for Erfana’s. I was going to hit the grocery store and make dinner that night.
Erfana had given me directions from her house to the grocery store but I was coming from the metro stop. I found the grocery store (and probably went way out of the way), wandered for far too long, bought a honeydew melon instead of a squash, and was laden with bags before heading back to the house – in the dark.
A few wrong turns and a walk under the highway later, I stopped thinking I would see something familiar “just around the next bend” and asked the rare person in this rural neighborhood for the street that Erfana lived on. I had walked so far I was in the next town over.
Back across the highway, up and down some hills (in a skirt and with grocery bags, mind you), I make it back to the grocery store. Erfana gave me new directions and I set out from there. When I ran into another grocery store I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was going the wrong way. Again.
I kept walking until I spotted a car dealership and called Erfana. She said, “Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.” Talk about the longest grocery store run of your life.
Dinner was great, though. I was in the kind of mood that just didn’t care. Because everything had gone wrong, there was nothing else that possibly could go wrong. I stayed up until 4 am finishing the stupid “Sex and the City” seasons.
A running theme throughout my overseas travels is that when it is time to come back, I get really depressed. Last time I spent hours upon hours at the British Museum. Since the museum I wanted to see was closed, I must have settled for a classic American HBO sitcom.
The Last Sunday
More of trying to convince myself more than Erfana that “Really, sitting and watching TV for hours in my pajamas totally isn’t me.” Finally I got off the couch to get dressed and wander my public transit way back to Braine-le-Chateau.
Because Erfana lives so near the airport, she offered to drop me off on her way to work on Tuesday.
Because Erfana lives so near the airport, she offered to drop me off on her way to work on Tuesday.
The Last Saturday
I sat on the couch watching seasons of “Sex and the City” while telling Erfana that this “totally isn’t like me” – sitting around and doing nothing. Somehow I really took to it over the next few days.
Saturday marked a return into the heart of the city I had come to love. I wandered down through the streets of the old part of the city and back to the Grand Place, shopping for SMALL gifts for those on my list. My goals: buy Christmas AND Europe presents all in one shot and make sure they’re small enough to fit in my suitcase.
My best finds:
· A store called “L’instant present” – This man has traveled all over the world taking unbelievable photos. The one I chose for my Pops for Christmas was shot in Utah.
· A silver ring with a round, engraved half-circle raised on the top of it – I walked in this uber-hippie, patcholi and hemp smelling store only to find this ring tucked away in the corner of a jewelry case. Two days later it will be complimented by a man who makes his living as a jewelry designer. That may have been a European pick-up line.
· A necklace from a chain store (I broke my “local” tendencies) that I had been in while visiting Paris five years before – Big, black discs overlap to make a funky gift for my sis.
I returned home to share Erfana’s spicy Kashmiri meatballs with Ryan and Anneke – two people we worked who also worked at the Embassy. Maybe one last weekend in Brussels wouldn't be so bad ...
Saturday marked a return into the heart of the city I had come to love. I wandered down through the streets of the old part of the city and back to the Grand Place, shopping for SMALL gifts for those on my list. My goals: buy Christmas AND Europe presents all in one shot and make sure they’re small enough to fit in my suitcase.
My best finds:
· A store called “L’instant present” – This man has traveled all over the world taking unbelievable photos. The one I chose for my Pops for Christmas was shot in Utah.
· A silver ring with a round, engraved half-circle raised on the top of it – I walked in this uber-hippie, patcholi and hemp smelling store only to find this ring tucked away in the corner of a jewelry case. Two days later it will be complimented by a man who makes his living as a jewelry designer. That may have been a European pick-up line.
· A necklace from a chain store (I broke my “local” tendencies) that I had been in while visiting Paris five years before – Big, black discs overlap to make a funky gift for my sis.
I returned home to share Erfana’s spicy Kashmiri meatballs with Ryan and Anneke – two people we worked who also worked at the Embassy. Maybe one last weekend in Brussels wouldn't be so bad ...
The Last Thursday
Erfana and Jacques took me out for lunch on my second to last day at the Embassy. Right by St. Katherine's cathedral. We had raw oysters and mussels that had been caught fresh that day. Then we trekked across the street to get some Kibbeling, which was incredibly good as well. Thanks, you two! 
My Last Moments
The last days and moments in Belgium are somewhat of a blur (particularly because it was months ago - my apologies for the lack of updates). I'll take you day by day because each one of those was "one of those days" - the one that just doesn't seem to go right no matter what you do.
Here goes.
Here goes.
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