Why Brussels = bad and Amsterdam = good

I didn't get a chance to write anything down these last few days and have fallen behind in my adventures. But I'm taking a nice relaxing stay on the beach in The Hague, capital of the Netherlands, and I've got plenty of time to catch up. I plan on staying here for 4 days or so; I have my hostel waiting for me in Amsterdam on the 7th and I'm probably not going to move until then.

First, Brussels. I liked the city itself, the ancient and amazingly tall buildings. I felt miniaturized in their presence and they sat like ancient watchers of men. The ladies of Brussels, likewise, got on my good side. In London, it seemed like the city had gotten so inured to tourists that they walked around all day, turning their noses up at you. At night, after everyone had gotten a chance to unwind, then it was a different city altogether and people were happy to have a good conversation. Brussels women were immediately polite and welcoming, nodding their heads hello and venturing out a "Bonjour!" when your eyes met.

But the men! The men were straight up meat-watchers!! If you are every in need of a boyfriend, a quick fling, a husband, then Brussels is the place to go. If they catch your eye, they will leave their group of friends to walk with you a moment, greeting you with a "Bonjour, beautiful!" They will, if they see you're Spanish, try to say "Hola!" and get a Spanish word in return. If, out of sheer force of habit, you reply "hi," "hello," or (heavens forbid!) "Hola!" to them, they will follow you, cling to you, try to get you to seat down for a drink, try to buy you fries or ice cream, try anything. And they will keep this up until you blatantly ignore them and storm off silently. Sometimes, even worse, they will not say anything -- because by then, you've learned to walk straight with a deep scowl on your face -- they will just randomly start humming a song as they watch you. At first, you'll think it's a coincidence that just weirded you out. After about the fourth time it happens, you realize it's no coincidence and you'll be really weirded out. But maybe the worst is the outright staring, watching you as you walk down the street, not ashamed in the least. Just staring.

When I got off the train in Brussels, I accidentally started heading the wrong way but caught myself at a street map before I went too far off course. I got to see a few amazing huge palaces and a beautiful park where they had built an almost full-size pirate ship for the kids to play on. I stumbled across what I later found out was the palace of justice (it was enormous!) which had a huge elevator in front of it. I didn't know where it went but I took it up to the top where I got a gorgeous view of the city. I was also able to reorient myself and head to the city center where the Grand Palace was. The square there is amazing. Cameras can't catch how huge and stately these buildings re. There is an old grand palace, a meeting hall, and four main streets that crawl off, full of shops and food and people. There is a fountain of a little boy peeing that's supposed to represent the way the Belgians stood up to the Nazis. There is a lot of beauty in the place itself, but then night started coming around and I found out that the hostel I was planning on staying at was booked full which meant walking around to another hostel.

It was about 8:45pm and I still hadn't found a place to stay. There were plenty of hotels near the train station, but that area had seemed pretty seedy when I walked passed earlier in the day. All the other places I'd gotten to had either wanted an outrageous amount of money (>200€) or were full, there being a holiday weekend going on in Brussels. The sun was still up and it was very bright, so I had no choice but to head back towards I'd seen the blocks of hotels near the train station.

About this time, I ran into a guy named Moave. He, like the rest of the men, had started off by saying hello and instantly becoming a cling on. But whether it was because I just got a good vibe from him or because he looked pretty dorky, I answered and told him I was walking to the train station to catch a train. He pointed down the street opposite where I was going, telling me I was going the wrong way and that the train station was in the other direction. I started walking, he walked with me, and we had a decent conversation as the road that led to the train station came into view and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. He asked if I wanted him to speak to the front desk in French for me and I said sure. The room ended up costing a sweet 100€ but at that point it aaas close to 10pm and I just wanted to have a safe place to put my head. Plus, it was right next to the train station so I would be able to leave first thing in the morning.

Moave asked if I wanted to go get something to eat or to see the Atomium, one of the main sights in Brussels, and since it was still so bright outside and I was still on a relief-hi from getting a room, I agreed. We took the metro, which was in the same station as the train, and stopped first at Euro Street, where the EU is headquartered. Fo there we walked to the Brussels' Arc de Triomph, which was amazing at night. After that, we jumped on the metro again and ended at the Atomium. At night, they light the structure up so that it looks like endless fireworks! Also, we stumbled upon a "Made from Spain" festival that was going on. The area was packed with people, salsa and reggaeton was being blasted, and the Atomium showered endless fireworks from above.

I made it back to my room at about 1am. It was a huge difference from the hostels I've gotten used to, and I almost didnt like it. Moave asked if he could come along with me to Amsterdam (Thursday being a day off for everyone) and I told him I was catching the 7:18am train, and that if he wanted to go he could catch it too. Sure enough, the next morning at the train station, he was there and we took off.

He asked if I'd like Brussels. I didn't tell him I'd never been so happy to leave a city.

The train passed through a few other cities and we got off in Antwerp to walk around for a bit. Because of the holiday, the city was dead. There were maybe ten people in the streets that we saw during our hour walk. It was very, very creepy. The good thing was running into a Great Dane in the park -- the dog was enormous! Then we were back on the train and got into Amsterdam at just about noon.

Fom the start, the city was packed full of tourist. The train left us in Central Station and the first thing you run into is the Red Light district. It's exactly as dirty and sad and just off-setting as you'd imagine and we walked on. I felt like I was holding my breath the entire time I was in there. Outside of that, though, Amsterdam was an amazingly beautiful city. The canals are dirty, the streets are also heavily littered, but even so it's a beautiful city. Everyone was relaxed, peaceful, and friendly. When we stepped off the train, there was a local waiting at a main street, just hanging out for a bit in case anyone had any questions.

There were also so, so many bicycles. There were thousands of them. They were everywhere! The narrow streets and the hordes of pedestrians meant that cars were almost non-existent. You were more likely to get hit by a bike than anything. The locals sped expertly through the walking crowds, ringing their bells to let you know they were coming, flying by at a scary-fast speed. Because bikes are the main way to get around, and there are no real bike traffic laws, it was always a hazardous situation trying to cross the street!

In the cancels, boats cruisers along, their boaters sitting merrily and sunning themselves. A tram systems ran throu the streets, adding more confusion to the traffic. And bikes, absolutely e ergs ere! Chained to absolutely everything -- chained to other bikes chained to other bikes hanging from the ceiling it seemed.

Because of the situation in finding a hostel the night before, I wanted to find a place to stay first. And, like Brussels, everything was booked. We ended up hiking through the entire city, going from hostel to hostel in our search. It wasn't until what seemed like the very last hostel in the city, on the far side of the city, that we finally managed to snag the last beds which were only available because the hostel had just had a cancellation. I've learned my lesson: my rooms are now booked at least 3 days in advance.

We threw down our bags and then took off again, freed from the weight. We saw the Anne Frank house, walked past the Van Gogh museum, and walked through amazing parks. All over, there were just happy and relaxed people. At one point, we sat in a park near our hostel to eat sandwiches and a group of Spanish musicians randomly picked a spot right next to us to start playing for contributions. They played beautifully and got ridiculously into the music, jiving along at they played. We saw oversized chess pieces, as long as half my leg, and watched a few chess matches being played by a grumpy group of old men. My favorite point in the night was catching a cello player who set up and played just beautiful music, to the point where I almost wanted to cry. It was a terrible setting for it, in that dirty city, the wind rustling trash everywhere, and it was also a perfect setting for it, the beauty in his music being such a stark contrast to his surroundings, like a startling reminder of what true beauty is.

Moave, during all this, was at first a good companion but ended up being a weird weight I was glad to leave behind. He was obviously tired from walking all day and wanted to take breaks; I think he was also pretty surprised when I declared, at 10pm, that i was going to take a shower and go to bed. He was good sport for a bit but I'm not sad to see him go. I did mention many, many, many times how amazing and perfect my boyfriend is, how much I miss him, how much he makes me laugh and makes me happy, how he would really enjoy such-and-such. Just to make sure he knew there was a Lucas in the picture.

This morning, we woke up early and we started out on the same train. I got off in The Hauge, and he was staying on to Brussels. It was a quick goodbye on my part and I didn't look back when I got off the train. I know I was being a little chilly towards him in the end, but I didn't want him to ask to come with me for the rest of his holiday weekend; while I like company, I want my company. I want my people. I want my family and my babe, not just anyone.

I got to the Hauge, looked at the map, and estimated it was about a 20 minute walk from the trainable station to the sea; 90 minutes later, I finally caught sight of the strand along the water. It was worth it thought. It's now 5:30pm and I've been here for 4 hours. It's been e most relaxing part of my trip so far. The sun stays up until nearly 11pm and rises at 5:30am. I plan on being out here on the beach for as much time as possible! It will give my feet a good break. There is a blister forming under the callous forming on one of my toes. It's not pretty, yikes.

So, for all of those still reading this ridiculously long post, here I am, sitting on a sofa lounge on the beach, probably burning a little, soaking up the rays for a few days. And Brussels sucked a lot. The Belgium waffles were pretty good, I'll admit, and the chocolate was amazing, but I don't ever want to go there again.

I'm going to try and Skype home this Sunday. I'll hopefully be able to get to somewhere quiet enough for a good conversation I love you all and miss you terribly. Oh, and if anyone has a picture of me and Lucas before we left, could you send it to me! Kisses!