Brussels, Belgium Edition

Mid Tier Travel? What that be tho?

Travel can’t always be a life-changing experience. Sometimes you go somewhere, do your thing, plan it well, visit the sights, and yet you come back the same. Life = not changed. You = disappointed. But at the same time, the trip didn’t traumatize you. It didn’t shake you to your core and destroy your faith in the human experiment. You traveled. The trip ended. Life goes on. Your trip stays in your memory but gets revisited as a meh-mory.

That’s what we in the business (just me) call mid tier travel. Sometimes a trip doesn’t blow you away. There can be many a reason for this. That same trip didn’t ruin your life either, it just left a dull taste in your mouth. There’s reason for that as well. Either way, that’s mid tier travel. And that’s something to embrace. Look at the glass half full because it is half full and you come to appreciate the mundanity of it all.

Or maybe we’re just growing accustomed to subpar experiences and disappointment. But damn it, that’s neither here nor there!

I’m going to share my experience of a trip that left no taste in my mouth and why this type of thing shouldn’t be unexpected or discouraged. Not every trip can be a winner, or a loser. Some just exist. And those excursions still have a place here in the annals of mid tier traveldom. Here’s why you should accept mediocrity sometimes, based on my example.

In this episode of Mid Tier Travel: Brussels, Belgium! Let’s casually stumble in shall we?

(yes)

How Brussels Should be

Brussels, Belgium; when you consider a visit to this EU cornerstone gem of a city, your mind’s eye envisions certain things now doesn’t it? Perhaps a quaint stroll under the elegant regard of the Grand-Place’s reverent spires. Perhaps those same feet putting in overtime to carry out said stroll are kissing the colorful flower carpet rolled out there every August and the make out session is most fierce. You’d likely be grubbing down on some OG French Fries wrapped up in a paper cone trying to figure out which bits of foreign wordage are Dutch, French or Flemish while you count the minutes til the Germans invade again. That’s Brussels right?

Well maybe there’s more too. Museums like the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, festivals like Onmegang of Brussels, a throwback to medieval pageants of old and an UNESCO designated masterpiece of intangible cultural heritage. Landmarks include some of Belgium’s finest, including the Atomium, whatever that’s supposed to be, the head honcho we call the Grand Place, the Mont des Arts and more.

With all those options, how can a trip to Belgium’s kingpin really be mid, you may be thinking. How could I not see myself flourishing as I promenaded throughout the heart of Europe? Was I just heartless?

How Brussels was for Me

As mnetioned before, what deviates Brussels from other classic mid tier travel journeys is the fact that this was a family journey. I didn’t go it alone as I be always claiming to do. No, in fact, ya boi sometimes has a family. And this here trip happened when I was a wee lad visiting Europe with my father and others who claim relation to me.

See my father made the mistake of having friends in Belgium (a rookie move) and I paid the price. His friend was okay but she had two daughters. Two! That’s more than one! And one is all you’d be able to handle when they’re young and hyperactive and are always clamoring to play with/torture a young brotha.

We got to eat mussels and frites, visit some of the aforementioned sights and still get a scope on the offerings on display in Belgium’s capital. Because of that, I can’t say it was a total waste of time. However, contrary to most of the trips discussed on this blog, a gander back to Brussels in the old memory container doesn’t gift me with images of splendid memories and iconic momnts. No I was just Kurtz from Heart of Darkness

the horror… the horror

I just realized that book is related to Belgium too! Damn my blogs too good huh?

How’d I Mess up

I’d made it thus far. Survived watching a little boy pee (this is referring to the Mannekin Pis. Don’t be getting any weird ideas about me!). Walked throughout the heart streets of the city center with narry a scratch on my perfectly textured body. We never got around to eat the famous Belgian chocolate or waffles though. That was my only regret, until…

It was midday when we went back to my dad’s friend’s home. I was trying to sit in the garden and read Harry Potter. The Half Blood Prince. You know the book is cool because they dive more into Voldemort’s backstory than in the movie. They’d just gotten to the cave too, Harry and Dumbledore, the moment the two girls came outside. They wanted to play “Loup”.

“Loup” means “wolf” in French. All I could gather from such a name was that this game was akin to a wolf stalking its prey. And I was the prey. Well, kinda. See I had to chase them around and then they chase me around or something like that. I tried to tell them I didn’t want to play with them.

Oh yeah, like I’ll totally play with you.

I mean how did they not get it? Instead, they were relentless. They came upon me, clawing at me like a real life wolf. In one fell swoop throughout the madness of running around the garden, one of the girls gripped the book. With the crushing force reflecting years of colonial crimes against humanity, Belgian style, she tore the book clean in half. First it was the Congolese. Now Ron and Hermione.

And like usual no accountability. My book laid in ruins. My heart made into a Horcrux just destroyed. It wasn’t even my book either. What was I gonna tell the library? “I hate Brussels” that’s what!

Takeaways

Okay so maybe not hate. I couldn’t really talk to anyone about this. Nobody cared that much. Nobody understood the horror I just went through. They told me the girls were just wanting to have fun. Cyndi Lauper did warn me of this so I dropped the issue. I thought of suing. But I dropped that too. We left Belgium quickly thereafter. I left the half book prince.

Harry Potter woes aside, the first few days before the massacre were decent enough. I remember even as a kid that I was in awe of the unique architecture in Belgium. Above all, the Grand Place really lived on in my imagination. It’s often hard to relate these early trips from adult travel times. By default childhood voyaging gets painted by a different brush.

It wasn’t me who chose Brussels, it was my dad. Still, there’s something else to that, like being introduced to a destination you otherwise never would have been introduced to. Now, years removed, and searching for takeaways, I find myself dreaming of one day visiting Brussels again, seeing things differently, all grown up, with freshly jaded eyes.

In the years since I listed to Angele’s Bruxelles je t’aime on repeat, thinking I would go to school there. I didn’t and so the ghosts remains, shrouded in the mystery of missed opportunities. Still there is some allure there and Brussels sits in my mind as a place maybe not deserving but ready for redemption.

To Cunk and to Lewd

To finish up with this episode of Mid Tier Travel, let me say that Brussels Belgium is not a horrible place. I could have had my Harry Potter book ripped up by small children anywhere else in the world. Hell, I should invite more people to rip up my Harry Potter books. That would give me more places to write about it.

Nevertheless, the sake of this series is to contain lackluster trips not to hate on places. It’s to share what I hope are entertaining and light stories from the road not to belittle. Even if, like in this case, I be little! Get it? Cuz I was small?

I hope it’s also obvious if you compare to other posts how much the depth of my travels have changed. As a kid visiting Belgium with my family, we only touched the surface. The trip was defined by random not-necessarily Belgian forces. I can’t do the deep dives I can do nowadays for countries like South Africa or Indonesia. That’s to show growth.

Mid tier travel is growth. It’s that feeling in the air when you know things are changing. It’s that bite of Belgian chocolate when you realize there’s now only one Harry Potter adventure left. It’s that last ray of sunlight as you piss on your favorite mannequin and hope they don’t wink at you? Okay I think I lost the plot… Blog post over! Goodbye!