Late Night Navigations

The streets were totally devoid of vehicles and it was barely 1.30am.

My breath formed a cloud and I pretended I was smoking, my black leather jacket and overgrown fringe giving me some kind of rock star attitude as I traced my way home along the tram line.

I counted not less than 12 rabbits as I walked - their little shadows bouncing across the dewy grass - and I wondered what they did in the daylight. The mornings bore the piles of dirt and droppings they left behind, evidence of the mischief they'd been up to overnight. They breed like... well, you know. Easter is coming up.

The birds sang like it was nearly dawn but sunrise was still a long way off. The sound made my solitary moment unscary, even among the silent shadows. I passed the school, sitting quietly in the dark, relaxing for a few days until Monday when it would once again draw the crowds and act as some sort of hive full of worker bees.

The red neon glow of the neighbouring Buffalo Grill was reflected on the grey concrete walls of the Residence as I neared. Opening the door to the hall, the thick, warm laundry air filled my lungs and I remembered pulling my sheets out of the dryer earlier in the day.

Opening the door to my apartment, the smell became familiar - a combination I cannot yet dissect, but one that is not unpleasant. I scowled when I saw my clean sheets on the end of the bed, forgotten in my rush to leave. I threw them over the mattress and climbed between them as I dialled his number to say goodnight. Speaking at what was nearly lunchtime there, he wished me sweet dreams and I said I'd speak longer tomorrow.

"Miss you."

"Miss you too."

...

"Love you."

"Love you too."

From Brussels, with love xx

I am happy to admit, considering all the consumer behaviour study I've done, that the exploitation/commercialisation of Valentine's Day is silly and merely a way to sell more stuff. Another 'Hallmark' day to boost the profits of florists and card companies. But despite this, despite the fact the day should mean nothing to me but business, it was a little depressing to be in a city full of chocolate, flowers and lovers on Valentines Day. Alone*. I tried (unsucessfully) not to think about someone 16,000km away. I even considered buying myself some tulips but the hostel didn't provide vases. Reflecting on this when I got back to Caen, I need not have worried if La Poste had just delivered my package on time - I came home to a letterbox and subsequent card filled with rose petals. Awww.

I'd love to tell you that Brussels is a fascinating city, full of amazing sights, sounds, flavours, etc to delight the senses and whatnot. The truth is, I am not much of an expert in architecture, gastronomy or even comic books. What I can say is that it was a fun place I didn't spend enough time in and didn't have enough money for. The chocolate is good, the waffles are good, the snails are ok and the waiters outside the restaurants harrass you in various languages, which is entertaining if not annoying.

There were lots of great things to take photos of, including a good selection of street art by some very talented delinquents. My approach was to just walk about and observe (the cheap way) as opposed to go inside and pay entry fees to exhibitions I'm not that interested in. And a good 7 hours of walking a day will take you through the reasonably small city fairly well, although I am sure there was much I missed. I will go back in spring or summer, when there are leaves on the trees, flowers in the gardens and warmth in the day. Until then, the rest of Belgium can remain a mystery and my very short-lived adventure will suffice.

*When I say alone, I wasn't actually alone. John was there. But John is not Danny. Sorry John! :)