Welcome Back

Back in Belgium.

For realz this time.

Realz².

Arrived in the Ghent station at 17 past 1.

Was met by a friend of Italian/German/Belgian descent. We had agreed to meet there, at that time (though, perhaps, slightly earlier) in order for a transaction. She was to give me the keys to the apartment of my brother and to that of my parents - I wouldn’t have said no to answers to the fundamental questions of the universe, but she, apparently, wasn’t up for that - without which I would have been doomed to roam the earth aimlessly for years to come; or spend the night in Brussels, whichever came first.

After the transaction was conducted, we boarded a tram. “boarded a tram” does not at all convey the last minute rush we experienced when perceiving the tram in the distance, considered the weight of my (rather heavy) bag, and then turning into a pair of scrambling fools; but it will have to do. We boarded the tram. It, however, did not follow the usual route, as I was soon, to my great horror, to discover. It took a left instead of a right (a bit like socialism, but different, I guess). This meant we were not headed towards the apartment of my brother (conveniently close to the station) but instead towards the centre of the city (not particularly conveniently close to anything but big crowds of drunkards). We were stranded on the Island of civilization with nothing but the need to get home quickly and safely. Which isn’t much, considering. We didn’t even have a personal servant named after one of the days of the week.

We harassed a couple of potential carriers. Not the medical kind. Carry a 30 kg bag in exchange for three beers & three cigarettes. They weren’t convinced, however.
After finally dropping the bag at the parents’ place (and take a shower and get changed) we headed out into the city. It didn’t sleep. So neither did we.
We talked to people. We did knock-knock-jokes with random strangers (who, for some reason, found the concept enormously difficult to grasp, so we were forced to enact both knock-knock-roles by ourselves. Needless to say, we did very well).

We
basically
had a lot of fun.

At about 9 AM (Monday morning, Belgium time) we decided to head home and, after, perhaps, a night cap, go to bed. The night cap was oddly enough accompanied by deep discussions on metaphysical questions, on potentiality. Is, or isn’t, there a pregnant man in the box? And is the cat in the box a metaphor for the repressed femininity of the European female? It is possible.

After a few refreshing hours – four to be exact – we headed out again. I was reunited with long-lost friends (Mr. Chilly & Mrs. Hangover) and I also met up with Flore, which I hadn’t seen for a few months. This last day of the Gentse Feesten ended earlier (at a ridiculously early 7AM (Tuesday, Belgium Time), I am shocked to admit). We had breakfast on the street. I had my first chocoladekoek in ages.

It’s not at all easy to imagine a better welcome to Belgium. Rather difficult, in fact. I’ll keep you posted if I come up with something.