Thursday, we had planned to run some errands first thing, but I couldn't get myself out of bed. Julian and his mother went for my euros and also a phone card for me while I slept the morning away. Around 1:30 I stumbled out of bed and downstairs just in time to say hello before his mother left for work. After a little bread, and some more relaxing, because clearly sleeping all night and day was not nearly enough, we went for a little twilight bike ride to grandma's cottage. Grandma's home was once a carriage house and is authentic European charm inside and out. I wanted to sing "over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go", because you really do ride through the town forest to get there.
We were greeted to a cozy fire in the woodstove and a freshly baked cake, complete with real belgian chocolate sprinkles. If you have only eaten sprinkles in America, you might as well not eat any. I have to bring enough of these home with me to celebrate every cake occasion until my next euro-trip. The biscuit (pronounced bis-quee - fancy, right?) is something like an angel food cake, frosted with cream and covered in chocolate sprinkles, and is even tastier than I can describe here.
Friday was to be an early afternoon train ride to Brugge, but Grandma had insisted we stop in for another piece of biscuit before we go. She had made it special for us after all and I could hardly resist a second piece Thursday evening. So then we waited for a slightly later train, but our packing took so long we had to miss that one as well. Finally, we skipped Grandma's and still had to rush for the next train, which we missed by a few minutes. Luckily, the staff at the station told us of another leaving soon and we were on our way.
We arrived in Brugge a little after 7, took a bus to the rental house, and realized halfway down the street that we'd forgotten to write down the entry code to the front door. A somewhat lengthy phone call from the front steps to check our email, and we were inside.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Adventures with Charles (or I told you I'd end up lost in Paris)
Krista dropped me off at the airport Tuesday night around 8. First check was carry-on size, a little too fat, but when I pulled out my sneakers and shoved them in the main compartment, all was good. Then in line for check-in, not too bad, mostly all french returning from holiday. My checked bag was one and a half kilos overweight, but they put it right through without a word. Security checkpoint went smoothly, then right to Borders to pick up Eat Pray Love at Krista's recommendation. I had a couple hours to read before boarding, then as soon as I reached my seat, curled up with my pillow against the wall. Air France hands out little packets with an eye mask, headphones, and towelettes at the beginning, and I drugged myself with benadryl. I slept the entire flight, save a few minor adjustments in my seat, and once to close the window at the attendant's request.
Fast forward to Paris the next morning, we landed at 11:20 local time, customs was a breeze, then everyone gathered around baggage claim. Waiting...waiting...waiting.... I had a 12:35 train, the guy next to me a 12:50 train. A few bags rolled out around 12...a few more....he was getting nervous about missing his, and mine was even sooner. I started to worry that they maybe brought train passengers' bags out to the rail station, but I was pretty sure it was here. At 12:30 I started to panic, but I couldn't just leave my bag in Paris. Just then it came around and pushed my way to the front to grab it and ran to the rail station, which is connected to the airport, just like another terminal, but it was up one escalator then across, then down three more, I reached the right floor at 12:40 but still had to find my terminal. It's a little strange, because they have signs that say "Paris by train" this way, and "TGV" this way, but only TGV to the South is there, and the TGV to the North is over with the Paris by train platforms.
So of course, I missed my train and really had no idea what to do. My cell phone gets no service in Europe, even though T-Mobile is supposed to, so I couldn't call anyone. I wandered back and forth, anxious tears welling up, until a young french couple took pity on me and asked if I needed help. They got the attention of a staff person who brought me to the TGV-air station to issue me a new ticket. I waited in line there, but when I reached the counter, he looked at my ticket and said I had to speak with the Air France people "on the other side of the lift". I looked and looked, but saw no sign of the Air France people, but it was well past 1 now and they had already packed up and left. I finally found the abandoned remains of their little temporary booth, another dead end.
Staring at the empty booth, an extremely kind man and his daughters asked if I needed help. I explained my situation and they took it upon themselves to get me another train. They walked me all the way back to the Air France airline terminal, and explained my situation and insisted they help me. They couldn't issue me a ticket directly, but they did find the next train and assure me there were plenty of seats and who could issue me my boarding pass when and where. I found a payphone to call Julian, who was already waiting for me in Brussels by this time. Four hours more he had to wait for me, but the train ride was nice (they put Air France customers in first class), so smooth you hardly feel a thing, and silent too. When the drink cart came through, at first I declined, but the attendant exclaimed "Non non, mademoiselle, you must, it is included in your ticket" so I had a cola and a nice little cake-like snack. Even the guy across from me chuckled at his insistence.
I arrived in Brussels at 6 pm and found all the trains there were delayed as well due to an accident or something. But now, with Julian, I wasn't alone or lost and I had someone to talk to, so it was much more relaxed. We arrived in Mol around 8:30 and walked to his house with his brother. His mother prepared a small tray of snacks and opened a bottle of champagne, to celebrate my arrival and his brother's exam, she said. A delicious dinner of baked macaroni and cheese (one of my favorites and one of her specialties) and we talked easily until midnight. A quick message to Mom and then off to bed. I was absolutely exhausted after the long trip.
Fast forward to Paris the next morning, we landed at 11:20 local time, customs was a breeze, then everyone gathered around baggage claim. Waiting...waiting...waiting.... I had a 12:35 train, the guy next to me a 12:50 train. A few bags rolled out around 12...a few more....he was getting nervous about missing his, and mine was even sooner. I started to worry that they maybe brought train passengers' bags out to the rail station, but I was pretty sure it was here. At 12:30 I started to panic, but I couldn't just leave my bag in Paris. Just then it came around and pushed my way to the front to grab it and ran to the rail station, which is connected to the airport, just like another terminal, but it was up one escalator then across, then down three more, I reached the right floor at 12:40 but still had to find my terminal. It's a little strange, because they have signs that say "Paris by train" this way, and "TGV" this way, but only TGV to the South is there, and the TGV to the North is over with the Paris by train platforms.
So of course, I missed my train and really had no idea what to do. My cell phone gets no service in Europe, even though T-Mobile is supposed to, so I couldn't call anyone. I wandered back and forth, anxious tears welling up, until a young french couple took pity on me and asked if I needed help. They got the attention of a staff person who brought me to the TGV-air station to issue me a new ticket. I waited in line there, but when I reached the counter, he looked at my ticket and said I had to speak with the Air France people "on the other side of the lift". I looked and looked, but saw no sign of the Air France people, but it was well past 1 now and they had already packed up and left. I finally found the abandoned remains of their little temporary booth, another dead end.
Staring at the empty booth, an extremely kind man and his daughters asked if I needed help. I explained my situation and they took it upon themselves to get me another train. They walked me all the way back to the Air France airline terminal, and explained my situation and insisted they help me. They couldn't issue me a ticket directly, but they did find the next train and assure me there were plenty of seats and who could issue me my boarding pass when and where. I found a payphone to call Julian, who was already waiting for me in Brussels by this time. Four hours more he had to wait for me, but the train ride was nice (they put Air France customers in first class), so smooth you hardly feel a thing, and silent too. When the drink cart came through, at first I declined, but the attendant exclaimed "Non non, mademoiselle, you must, it is included in your ticket" so I had a cola and a nice little cake-like snack. Even the guy across from me chuckled at his insistence.
I arrived in Brussels at 6 pm and found all the trains there were delayed as well due to an accident or something. But now, with Julian, I wasn't alone or lost and I had someone to talk to, so it was much more relaxed. We arrived in Mol around 8:30 and walked to his house with his brother. His mother prepared a small tray of snacks and opened a bottle of champagne, to celebrate my arrival and his brother's exam, she said. A delicious dinner of baked macaroni and cheese (one of my favorites and one of her specialties) and we talked easily until midnight. A quick message to Mom and then off to bed. I was absolutely exhausted after the long trip.
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