Lesson Learned, Lessons Start

Martin, Matt, and Me at the Wine and Cheese Party

View from the top of the Brugge Belfry

The narrow winding staircase of the Brugge Belfry

Tom and I at the top of the Brugge Belfry

View of Brugge from the Belfry

Brugge in the sunshine

Sunset out the back window of the Nachbahrhuis

Liam, Matt, and Tom at the Bock Casemates in Luxembourg

Remnants of the towers of the castle and the valley below in Luxembourg

Sunsetting over Luxembourg

Luxembourg, City and Valley

Luxembourg from below

Menneken Pis without a costume

EU buildings in Brussels

“50.80,” the conductor barked at my offering of 15.80 Euro, his oversized nose now huffing like a junk yard dog.
My arm, slightly extended from my body, slowly retracted toward my chest in disbelief – an expression which must also have been evident on my face. I twisted in the dark blue train car seat, my foot sliding off of the rest and making a thud, as I tried to retort.
The conductor, who had already yanked my ticked out of my hand, was angered by his need to use English with me, and fueled by my miscomprehension, slyly snarled, “You had been warned by my colleague, this is his mark right here.”

My mind was racing: No I didn’t get warned. I didn’t even know what the means. The conductor on the other train just grabbed my card circled something in Dutch with red pen, and scribbled in the corner. And smelled of body odor, terrible, terrible, body odor. But besides that, I didn’t even realize I had done something wrong. I can’t even read the Dutch. I already purchased a ticket for this ride, why didn’t that suffice!

“He wouldn’t have written it if he didn’t explain it,” - one last biting blow.

But he didn’t explain it, I had an idea what got him mad, but he never spelled out what I did wrong. And I was filling out the information for this card, if he would have given me two seconds I would have been finished. What’s the use in arguing, I can’t even speak his language tongue, let alone argue with him. And that might make him more mad. I immediately feel compassionate toward foreigners riding on New Jersey Transit, and take back all those inappropriate things I’ve mumbled about them in my head.

But you have to stand up for yourself, try one more time, just plead with him. After all, 50.80? 50.80? That was a weekend trip somewhere, a train ride to Germany, a flight to Italy, a night in Ireland, 10 trips on the Belgian train system with a GOPass and two potatoes at Delhaze supermarket, the first round of book supplies, my spending money for a week or two, two rounds of groceries, a Christmas present for my a family member, a Christmas present for myself. Not mention the amount of beer, 16.93 beers at 3 Euro a pop – 5.34 cases of 24 bottles of Stella. That’s a lot of money.

“Thank you.” Wait, what did I just do? Did I actually just pay the man?

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As you may have guessed, I had an interesting experience with Belgian train authorities this weekend. On a trip in to Brussels to pick up my friend Tom, who came in from Ireland to visit this weekend, and then out to Brugge, to show him around, I was fined for filling in my ticket at an inappropriate time. Apparently, when purchasing a GOPass (a 50 Euro, 10 trip pass where the customer fills in the dates and locations – essentially allowing one to go anywhere in Belgium for 5 Euros) it is frowned upon, or more importantly fined upon, if you fill out the trips while on the train. A lesson I learned the hard way, by first being warned (though I didn’t even realize I was warned) and then with the single strike rule – I guess they never heard of baseball over here – I was fined. They say the best lessons learned are the hardest. And for a college student, the hardest happen to be the most expensive. Needless to say, I ended up paying a little over 25 Euro (50 split between me and Tom) for the two of us to travel out to Bruges, which should have only been 5 European buckaroos – a rocky start to an otherwise stellar weekend.

Yes this weekend, the Belgian “Stad” of Leuven laid host to its first round of visitors. There were a number of different friends and chums in town to see the wonders and awes of Belgium’s college town. For me, it was the first time I got to show off my new home. My guest was Tom Fitzpatrick, who is currently studying in Galway, Ireland, and arrived in Brussels on Friday. We had a mismatched, last-minute, spur-of-the-moment trip put together, which was nothing short of entertaining. Besides arriving at two different Belgian train stations and both standing under the “Departure” sign looking for each other, and the exorbitant fine – the weekend got off without a hitch… ok, our weekend started off a little bumpy.

Being a fan of the movie “In Brugge” (mentioned in my earlier blog about our trips first trip to Brugge), Tom thought Brugge was a must see – and it is to anyone traveling to the Belgium for the first time. We took a train (and were fined) out to the forgotten city adjacent to the North Sea, and naturally, Tom thought it was pretty awesome – because let’s face it, it is cool. It was nice to take a trip to the city on our own. In our small group of Matt, Tom and me, we could easily navigate the city and decide what to do and what not to do.

Our first order of business upon our arrival was a brisk walk through the cobbled streets to the main Belfry – which we wanted to climb before it closed. The winding climb up the narrow, dark, wooden, staircase – with only a rope as a handrail – proved to be quiet labor some, even for a group of 20-year-olds. Huffing and puffing, we trudged onto the top floor, and stood amazed at late afternoon view we had of the city. The sun, peaking through the clouds in a heavenly aura, shone down over the red roofs and spires of Brugge’s skyline – a plethora of colors speckled into the horizon. Etched into the stone on the ledge of each vantage point, in each of the appropriate navigational directions, was the name of a number of European cities. Then, with a tick, the bells sounded. A giant symphony of “bings” and “booms” rang out from the tower in a melody for the Grote Markt below, which the tower had begun to cast a shadow over, to appreciate – though appreciate, is a difficult term to use when you’re standing next to them as they sound.

We spent so much time staring out over the city, and climbing the 366 spiral staircase steps (that lie as narrow as 2.5 feet at the top – providing an extra feat when you try and navigate one way with another person heading the other), that we missed out on the seeing the vile of Christ’s blood at Heilig Bloedbasiliek – again. Instead we headed over to the chocolate factory that allows tours of the factory followed by complementary chocolate – just in time for it to close. Though our visit appeared to be futile, we left surprisingly satisfied with just walking around and appreciating the beauty of the 13th century city. And in the long run, I suppose that will give us another reason to head back to my favorite Belgian city. Content with our time in Brugge, with a warm Belgian waffle (so sweet you could eat it without anything on it) topped in chocolate, we rolled back on the train from Brugge to show Tom around Leuven – filling out our ticket before we got on the train this time.

On Tom in Belgium + 2 (Saturday), we headed down to Luxembourg. Our original plans for the weekend were to spend Saturday in Bastogne, then travel to Luxembourg for the night and then tour Luxembourg City in the morning. However, Tim (not Tom), was the main proponent in organizing that trip, and fell ill on Friday night. So with another quick bout of plan making, we headed down to Luxembourg on Saturday.

Luxembourg City is a charming little capitol built on a plateau in the heart of Luxembourg. We began with a walking tour of the city where we spent time at Notre Dame, in the main courtyard, and seeing the Duchess Palace. Then we headed out to the edge of the city.

“I never thought it would be this beautiful,” Liam said as we walked along the Chemin de la Corniche, hailed, fittingly so, as Europe’s most beautiful balcony. The walkway, which lies on the 17th century fortress foundation built by the Spanish, looks out over the valley below, which is now dotted with the yellow, green, red, and orange of the autumn tree leaves that sit amongst the city squares below.

The quaint city has a series of interesting stories and conquests that have lead to its founding. The castle from the 900’s and fortress used to signify the Luxembourg skyline – built out on the rocky point of the plateau known as the Bock. However, both features were removed in the 1800’s as a symbol of the country’s commitment to neutrality in European affairs – a commitment to which the country still holds. However, ironically enough, Luxembourg was a large victim of both WWI and WWII bombings.

Dug deep into the bedrock of the Bock, is the only remaining features of the fortress and castle that once stood there. These “Bock Casemates” are dug out on one of the points of the plateau that Luxembourg City lies on. The dark, musky, manmade caves were originally the basement to the castle. However, they were largely expanded in the late 1700’s by the Spanish (who were apparently very small folk, as I bashed my head in the dark on more than one occasion). The Spanish used them as cannon embankments for the fortress which protected the city and gazed over the valleys below. Since then, the casements history has done everything from hosting a butchers market, housing soldiers, and sheltering 30,000 residents during WWI and WWII invasions.

After exploring the Bock Casemates, we headed over to the innovative new museum on the history of Luxembourg City, Musee d’Histoire de la Ville de Luxembourg. This state of the art museum, with its modern architecture and design, was packed with history from the founding of the city to the occupation by Nazi Germany. We spent most of our hour tour there (we got there at 4 and the museum closed at 5) running around from one exhibit to the next. Glass walled elevators took us up and down the museum, which dug as deep as three stories into the ground, and revealed the rocky history that lay below – occasionally revealing a house wall or doorframe from the city under the city.

With limited opportunities for sight-seeing open after we got out of the museum, we headed down into the valley to take a look at the city from below. From below, we watched as the sunset over the perfectly perched city. The red sun glowed in the blue sky as it set behind the black steeples of the church of Notre Dame. With the sun going down, and our train approaching we hustled backed to the train station, stopping for my first European sin – a Quick (European McDonalds) burger.

Sunday was an easy day for our traveling crew. We slept late, and then headed to Brussels to show Tom around the European capital. We took him to some of the traditional sights: Menneken Pis, the Grote Markt, the Cathedral, the Palais Royale and then over to the EU buildings. We were struck by the beauty of the modern architecture of the EU buildings – something different from the historical buildings we traditionally visit. Finally, we headed back to Delerium Café (the bar mentioned in one of my earlier blogs that contains 2004 beers), to get Tom one more brew before he flew out. After walking through the darkening, graffiti-ridden, streets toward Brussels Zuid (an experience that reminded me of walking through Jersey City at night – not a walking tour I’d revisit). From there, Tom departed for Shannon Airport in Ireland, and we headed back to Leuven station. My first round of being a tour guide was finally over, and it was just as tiring as it may have seemed!

In other news, this week was pretty event filled for the Loyola Crew, as we began our first week of classes. The honeymoon is officially over! I shopped around for a couple of different courses but it looks like for the most part I’m going to stick with the following: International Relations and European Integration Since WWII, International Political Economy (taught by a crazy enthusiastic professor who switches between Dutch and English), Media Ethics, Dutch 101, Travel Writing, and Popular Culture Theory. Over all, I have been satisfied with my selection of courses, and that I more or less only have class on Monday and Tuesday. : P (Don’t tell my father, he’ll be mad). It should be an interesting semester mixed with travel and work.

The only other exciting event occurred in the beginning of the week with the annual Nachbahrhuis Wine and Cheese Party. This is an event hosted by the director of the program (Dr. Forni) in the director’s house in the Begijnhof. The entire huis is invited – internationals, Americans, and Belgians – to enjoy 12 different types of cheese and a couple of different wines. It was a great way to begin the week and get to meet people living in the house that we may not have been familiar with. Other than that, in upcoming news, this weekend we head to Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany. So check back in next week for tales about our next round of escapades away from home.

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The tragic events that I began my blog with have brought me to an idea that I hope for journalistic sake (and despise for every other virtue) will become a reoccurring event on my blog, which should also hopefully help future potential travelers, known as: Lessons learned the hard way. So without further ado:

Lessons Learned the Hard Way:

1. Lesson 1: Writing in your destination on a GOPass, at the last minute, while talking with your friend who just got in from Ireland, on a train ride through Belgium, with a poorly fragranced conductor, followed by a crankier less poorly fragranced conductor, will almost certainly lead to a fine of roughly 25.40 Euro a head. Lesson learned.

2. Lesson 2: If you’re traveling on your bike, navigating through a foreign city, that is very well known for its bike traffic, while looking for street signs for a group of lost girls, while simultaneously contemplating about a new series you want to start on your blog about lessons learned the hard way, and head up a street with do not enter sign, you will almost certainly end up face to face with a Mercedes minivan. Lesson learned.