The train to Brussels took 8 hours. And that was the "fast" train. However, when we weren't sleeping (or when Corey wasn't skunking me in cribbage), we got to see a great deal of beautiful countryside.
Within 15 minutes of arriving in Brussels, Corey made a very astute observations: "The Belgians are fashion-autistic." Ties with polo-shirts, stripes and polk-a-dots, suspenders with capris, combat boots and dogs--these are only a few of the odd fashion "statements" we witnessed.
We took the subway from the Gare du Midi to our hostel, Sleep Well, of which I was rather apprehensive. Having never stayed in a hostel, I had visions of dirty, cheep motels where young people liked to party. Fortunately, my fears were settled when we checked in to a private room with its own bath. The view was a little sketch, and a Mariachi band was staying next door to us, but asisde from that, everything was clean and neat.
After a meat-laden Flemish dinner, Corey and I met his friend who was stuying abroad in Brussels. She took us to a place called Coasters, one of the few places in the beer-guzzling country where one could find mixed drinks. After a delicious margarita, we moved on to a classy bar known for dancing on tables. (No worries, there were no poles and there was a dress code to get in.) Corey's friend explained that there always seemed to be one nerdy kid who stood up on the table first and then everyone joined in. Wearing our Tom's shoes, we busted our moves while being careful not to fall.
The next day was spent eating Belgian Waffles for breakfast; awing over the ornate architecture and beautiful flowers of the Grand Place--the only truly clean part of Brussels; munching on Earl Grey cookies for mid-morning snack; tricking our eyes ("trompe d'oeil," en francais) at the Magritte Museum; dining on the rooftop of the Musical Instruments Museum for lunch; siestaing in the park; walking past the European Parliment (to say we'd been there); and indulging in a few beers at various pubs throughout the day. Brussels in a day can wear a person out. Despite our fatigue, visiting the Delerium bar was an absolute must. Corey dragged me there after dinner, and I'm very glad he did, as it's one of my favorite beers. We ended up getting a "boot" of beer for about the same price as one glass in the US!
The next day, Sunday, was our journey to the farm. We had train tickets from Brussels to Amsterdam, but there was no time or train reservation. We showed up to the station just before noon--after a prolonged breakfast at a cafe where I ended up translating for a group of British girls--only to find out that the next train didn't leave until 2:30. So, we killed time writing postcards and munching on Belgian chocolate. When the train showed up, we asked the conductor where we were to sit. "This is not your train," he told us. "This is fast train. You pay more money if you take this train." After this huge debaucle at the station, we finally found the correct train and made it to Amersfoort by 5:30.
The farm we were working on was just outside of Amersfoort near the small village of Stoutenberg. We called a taxi and pulled up to the castle, feeling excited and relieved to finally be at our destination.
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