Belgium

Reading time: 6 minutes

Themes: Adventure, exploration

17 - 18 June

When I arrived in Brussels, the anxiety and insomnia I was feeling in the Netherlands morphed into a full-blown depression. I wasn't homesick yet, but I felt bogged down by a 'heaviness' in Brussels. My Couchsurfing host, Redouan, was phenomenal and had lots to talk about. He explained that my unit was formerly an AirBnB, but he was expanding to Couchsurfing to accommodate people who might aid in his upcoming travels. Redouan was an incredibly interesting person and, as you'll see later on, turned out to be a legitimate life-saver. We spent a lot of the first day talking in the shared galley beneath my A-frame loft. Redouan told me about his life and how he had lived in Canada and wanted to make it back there full-time. He worked in Belgium for Coca-Cola, distributing products to different vendors.

In a lot of ways, that window felt like a portal outside of whatever funk I was in during the first couple of days in Belgium. It didn't help that it rained almost non-stop until the last day I was there, which made me contemplate leaving early. While sheltered inside my accommodation, wondering how I had spent another half of a day watching TV instead of exploring the world, I peered out the window with an idea. I knew that there was easy access to the roof just outside the window and the rock climber in me took hold (pun intended). I crawled my body through the narrow opening of the window, feeding my camera and tripod through after. I climbed up onto the ledge of the building and swung my feet over the edge. There was no one on the road below, it was just me and the monochromatic sky for as far as I could see. I spent a good thirty minutes up there, studying the buildings and giving thanks for the luxury of where I'm from and all the privilege I'd been afforded to get there. I felt God with me at that moment. That moment did a lot to pull me out of the grime. As it started to get darker, I headed in to plot a photo opportunity later in the evening. At this point in time, I was very much still discovering my 'niche' in photography, and I was experimenting with long-exposure light photography. Once it was dark, I hopped back out to my familiar roof hideaway and snapped a photo of a ball of light fabricated by me swinging around a glowing color wand. The next day I went to the train station to venture out after spending a whole day inside, and upon getting to the train station, I realized I forgot my Eurail pass...then it started raining. I retreated home and spent yet another day inside.

19 June

I woke up, and the sky was clear, so I decided today was the day to explore. I was eagerly anticipating leaving Belgium at this point, but I still had two more days before I could meet with my Couchsurfing host in Frankfurt. I decided that morning that I was going to make the best of it. My original plan was just to visit the city of Ghent, as Redouan had recommended, but spontaneity quickly changed that. When I got to the train station, I noticed something I had missed coming in. A vast swath of the station was covered in a plastic sheet, and it was clear there was rubble behind it. At that moment, it clicked in my head that this was the scene of a terrorist bombing attack at Maelbeek in March of that year, as Redouan had described. The recognition of this sent chills down my spine and I just decided to keep a cool head and board my train to Ghent. I quickly forgot about the scene as I got closer and closer to Ghent and the quiet little city placated my mind. As soon as I got off the train and the sun hit my face, I was filled with joy. I spent an hour or so roaming the city and taking pictures. In total, I passed probably twenty other people. Being only midday, I decided I wasn't going back to my apartment a moment sooner than I had to, so I found the first train to Dinant and boarded it.

In truth, I only went to Dinant because I had to go through it to get to the thirteenth-century Château de Walzin (Walzin Castle), a bucket list item from my composition notebook. I remember the train ride there filled with the countryside and jutting rock towers. When I got off the train in Dinant, I first saw the Citadelle de Dinant looming on the horizon - it took my breath away. From there, I hailed a taxi and asked to be dropped off at the front gates of Walzin Castle. I suppose I expected just to be able to walk right into the castle, but the driver's face should've given me pause. When we arrived, he let me know we were here in French, and I paid and got out to two giant locked gates. The driver spared no extra time to ensure my safety before taking off. I spent twenty minutes or so debating what to do before I settled on hopping the small fence on the side of the gates and wandering onto the property. Not the most brilliant move in hindsight, but a decision I haven't come to regret.

I quickly found a small path along the side of the castle walls and walked it till it ended. I still couldn't see any semblance of a castle, and somewhere along the way, I had brushed a plant with my hand that had now broken out into burning hives. I turned down a different path and came across an abandoned village by the riverside, which I later found out is called Moulin de Walzin (Walzin Mill). Across the river, I knew I would see what I was looking for, but I couldn't help but be enraptured in this remnant I had found myself in. I wandered through some of the buildings for a minute, but most doors were pasted shut, so I snapped a photo and moved on. I felt utterly alone and had no fears surrounding anyone finding me, miraculously. I found a narrow crossing through the river that kept my feet dry, and all of a sudden, the castle exposed itself to me in its full glory. I spent a moment gathering the photo I was after and headed back toward where I came from.

I had service and was able to see that it was only three miles back to Dinant, so I decided to walk it. I had a lovely walk back to town through the lush grass that hugged the road winding me through sweeping farmland and massive rock formations such as Rocher Bayard. I finally made it back into the town just at sunset, and after wandering through the city's quaint and eerily quiet streets, I headed back for the train station. When I got to the train station, I saw that the last train was in an hour at ten o'clock. I soon realized, however, that this train only went to the city of Namur before stopping for the night, which would still leave me forty-five miles from Brussels. With twenty percent battery left on my phone, I collected myself from my panic and called Redouan. When he answered, I explained the situation to him, and he graciously offered to pick me up from Namur at the scheduled time. I took a huge sigh of relief and thanked him abundantly. I spent the hour at the train station observing the little city and thanking God for rescuing me from my careless mistake. When I met with Redouan, he didn't show the slightest bit of indignation but instead probed me thoroughly about my day and all that I had experienced. We talked quite a bit on the ride back and continued it until one in the morning with some beer once we got back.

20 June

On my last day in Belgium, Redouan showed me around downtown Brussels. We walked around the historic district for quite a while, and he gave me a comprehensive history lesson. One of the first things he showed me was the City Hall of Brussels and its asymmetrical facade. He explained that when they finished building this remarkable fifteenth-century gothic masterpiece and noticed that the front entryway was not centered, the architect threw himself from the top of the building where a star now marks his fall on the ground. I've done some further research, and it appears this could just be folklore but who knows - it's more fun to believe it though the story is tragic. We concluded the trip with a visit to the Atomium before I embarked on a forty-hour train ride to Stockholm via Hamburg and Copenhagen.

Without Redouan, I would've been stranded in Namur for the night, so my most profound gratitude goes out to him. Thank you for the stories and for showing me all your city has to offer.