Five Minutes to "The Girl" District

After traveling to six countries in two months, I've officially earned the credentials (in the form of Passport stamps) to make broad statements about Europe - all of the cities begin to mimic each other. Brussels was a small Berlin, a dimly-lit Paris, flawed version of Amsterdam's red-light district, and most of the natives were dark featured like the Czechs. But, it's those human characteristics that create our grand differences.

Brussels surprised me. I thought it would be like the boring vegetation it was indubitably named after....Brussel-sprouts -- and who really eats those? I found familiarity in their culture while in the company of all tan people. We bonded that way. I blended in with their natives when I wrapped a scarf around my head for warmth. Their culture and people who decorate the replicate city gives Brussels a unique personality. I enjoyed the Eastern and Western European clash.

My mom and I randomly discovered a cuddled up isle of French and Italian restaurants. Their "attack" was different from the Asian food mobs in London. As you passed by (with or without scanning their menu) showing no interest in eating, designated saleschefs scuttled along your side spitting their pitch in multiple languages until they guessed your native tongue. Obviously fooled by my disguise, they spoke to me in French or Spanish, but never English like the rest of the tourists in Little Sicily. I exercised my Spanish to the smallest degree. The mesmerizing Grand Place-Grote Markt was embedded within this neighborhood of tourists. This square was one of my many "good finds" on the trip.

The only place my intuition couldn't guide us to was our freaking hotel. We were lost for nearly two hours trying to locate a dark alley with cool graffiti that for some reason didn't make the cut for city map worthy. We struggled to cross language barriers to ask five people where this place could be. And do you know what every single person trustfully advised: "Ah, it's only five minutes away." After awhile, we started to catch on.

We walked passed a bunch of stunning architecture that we didn't know the names of . De Brouckere, De La Bourse and St. Catherine's Place were the most memorable. Exploring all of the depths of Brussels requires more than just one and a half days to do. I came. I saw. I got inked.

Oh, but I made certain to visit the "Girl" district that is not called a Red-Light District in Brussels. When anxiously searching for it, my keywords were far more direct: "Do you know where the prostitutes are located?" But, the modest locals refer to this sketchy area behind the Brussels Nord train station as "the girls." Their girl district wasn't as groomed or hustling as Hollands. In a nutshell, there were two blocks worth of girls, drunks who didn't show any interest in the girls, and then a few serious shoppers in suits with their hands knotted behind their backs. When we passed by in PURE browsing mode the hussies weren't as receptive. Mom's wisdom chimed in and said "I don't know why they're getting mad, they're the ones in the windows." She made a valid point.

Easy Jet makes you check in your luggage if it doesn't fit in the shrunken dimensions of that luggage-measurer thing. Our flight was delayed, too. I have a sour opinion about them now. Ryan Air rocks because they don't give a shit about anything. Fly them.

Next up....Thanksgiving on the Mediterranean coast of Marseille. I'll be couch surfing for the first time as well. Cheers to new endeavours.