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| I indulged and bought a Belgium Waffle when I passed this lovely display in Brussels, Belgium. The sweet smell of sugar and freshly baked waffles with fresh fruit was irresistible. |
Before heading to the airport, I wander to the Marché des Capucins. It occurred to me that I had not visited the famous market in Bordeaux yet. Unfortunately, it is Tuesday morning, and although the market is open, it consists only of permanent vendors inside the building. Additionally, I arrive around 10 am, and most vendors are not open yet. Feeling disappointed, I find a vendor selling fruit, buy a banana and continue to the tram.
I hop aboard the tram to the airport. The tram is unusually crowded today. So instead of validating my ticket, I find a small opening in the crowded tram, shed my pack, and hang on. At the next stop, I see five TBM (Transports Bordeaux Metropole) controllers board the tram. Damn it, I say to myself. I still need to validate my ticket. Of course, the senior officer, a tall bald man, asks to see my ticket. I pull it out of my pocket. He glances over and nods. I try to tell him I have yet to validate it, but he seems uninterested. The following person he checks doesn't have a ticket. He immediately calls over one of his staff, and she pulls out his citation booklet. As soon as she is done, she starts writing the next citation.
I am surprised by what I see. How can so many people not have tickets? I watch the controllers issue a dozen tickets or more in the short span of five stops. And they never left the car I was in. As I observe what is occurring, I notice they are explicitly targeting locals. They are less concerned with anyone that appears from out of the area. They are an efficient team. After five stops, the bald man signals his team, and they step off the tram at the next stop.
The woman in the black and white suit is a TBM controller. She is patiently listening to the other woman's story before she issues her a citation for riding without a ticket.
I booked my flight today with RyanAir. The aircraft and staff are great. However, after arriving at Bordeaux, and later Brussels, Belgium, I remembered why the ticket was so cheap. RyanAir and other carriers like EasyJet and Wizz offer discounted flights throughout Europe because they fly from less popular airports or terminals.
When I arrive at Bordeaux Airport, I am starving. I asked a lady at the information desk if there were additional options for food after the security checkpoint. "Yes. There are much better options on the other side," she says. So, I drop off my bag and get in line. I hand the lady my passport and scan my boarding pass. The red light illuminates. "Please scan your boarding pass again," the security offer tells me. Again I get a red light. "Where are you flying? Charleroi Brussels, I say. "That is the other terminal," she says as she instructs me on where to go. When I cross the correct security checkpoint, I am disappointed to find only a convenience store. I laugh. Oh well. It looks like I am eating chips and a soda for lunch.
After a few hours of flight, I land at Brussels Charleroi Airport. Once inside, I pull out my phone and look for a tram or train to the city center. Hmmm. That's odd. As I look around the airport, there isn't a tram or a train to the city center. There is, however, a charter bus which takes 50 minutes each way. I laugh again. I understand now how RyanAir can sell those cheap fares. There are very few services to support. I'll remember this in the future when I make my travel arrangements.
It is after 6 pm when I finally arrive downtown at the train station. At least the bus took me to the right part of Brussels, I say to myself as I step off the bus. I walk through the immense train station to get to the tram, which will take me to my hotel.
Walking up to the electronic kiosk to buy my tram ticket, I notice a pungent smell. I instantly recognize that smell. Its urea. I look around and see homeless people lying against the walls. Some are on filthy mattresses. Others are simply just sitting on the ground. I now understand people have been urinating wherever they can. It fucking stinks, and I can't wait for my tram to arrive. đ
I'm not sure I like Brussels. It definitely needs to make a better first impression, although the impression is strong. On the left side of the tram, the streets are lined with thrash. It looks like someone emptied several huge bins of trash. As I glance to the right, the streets are ultra clean. This is strange. I would like to know what is happening here and why the disparity between the two sides of the street exists.
Stepping off the tram, I follow the Canal de Brussels to my hostel. It is much cleaner here. What will I discover while I am here in Brussels?
By the time I get settled in, it is late. I know the restaurants are all closing soon. I sense that I am past the point of hunger. I know I need to eat, but I am not hungry. I know I haven't eaten much today, and if I don't eat now, I'll be too hungry in the morning. So I head out of the hostel to a local restaurant recommended by the front desk.
Along the way I pass this sign. Seeing this makes me smile. It reminds me of a quote I encountered and try to follow. "Create more than you consume each day." I remember days when all I did was consume things. I am still amazed on how easy it is to fill my day by consuming things, if I am not mindful. It's a reminder to keep my phone in my pocket.
What works better for you, English or French, I ask the young lady at the reception desk of the hostel. "English is better," she says. I am surprised by her response. French is primarily spoken here in Belgium. Where can I get something to eat tonight? I ask. "Cafe Walvis is a local restaurant that is quick and serves good beer and Belgium food. It's only a few hundred meters from here," says the young lady at the reception in English.
The menu has salads, burgers, and steak tartar. I remember CĂ©line telling me that tartar here is an entire meal, not an appetizer. So I opt for the burger and Belgium fries. As I look around Cafe Walvis, I notice many references to Belgium fries. It appears that they are very proud of their fries here. Some of the signs even claim that potato fries were invented here in Belgium. I am now curious. I don't really know where potato fries (i.e., French fries) were invented.
So, I turn to Uncle Google, who leads me to a story written by BBC. Turns out French fries have a clouded past. I learn that Belgium is currently petitioning UNESCO to make Belgium fries an official icon of Belgium. However, there are some major holes in the legend of Belgium inventing fried potatoes. However, Belgium can claim they have the best-tasting fries, in my opinion. Belgium fries are double-fried, which gives them a crispy exterior and a heavenly whipped interior. Although Belgium may not have invented the fry, it appears that during World War II, American GIs who were in the French-speaking part of Belgium dubbed these tasty treats "French Fries." However, the exact origins of potato fries are unknown. Some advocate that the French Fry should be renamed to the Francophone Fry to better represent that it was a popular dish in many French-speaking parts of Europe.
Not too long after sitting at the table, an older gentleman sits at the table next to me. I hear him order steak tartar American. The 220 g (1/2 lb) raw burger arrives at his table with a raw egg on top, as my burger arrives. I look at his plate and that huge patty of raw beef. Then I realize that tonight, I am not feeling adventurous with my meal. Eating a cooked burger sounds much better than raw ground beef.
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