7:05 am. Bruxelles. Cloudy, with a chance of meatballs. Frites, more likely. Didn't realize that french fries are so popular here.
A pleasant seven-hour flight across the pond. Food was good, the movie-offerings ok. Baggage and immigration were straightforward, as was picking up the rental car. A five-door, manual-shift Toyata Auris, running on diesel. Couldn't have asked for a better car. Bindu and the girls napped at the airport while I delivered seven large and two small suitcases, and a racquet bag at the hotel. Navigating through downtown Brussels was a challenge. This had to be the city described by U2 - Where the streets have no names. The way back was a lot easier, but I almost had the car towed when I double parked at the airport curb-side while attempting to revive the family from what started out as a nap, but ended in deep slumber.
By the time we headed out for some food, it was almost sundown. Had a bit of a language problem when attempting to get directions to a super-market, but that was solved by a very friendly English speaking native on a bicycle. As he wheeled his conveyance alongside, he delivered a crisp history and culinary lesson on the city, and led us through a maze of streets that ended, via an ATM and the supermarket, at a breath-taking square in the center of the city, the Grand Place. Very magnificient. Dinner was french fries with a couple of amazing dipping sauces and belgian waffles with yummy fruit and chocolate toppings. Hallelujah!
Our friendly stranger did solve the puzzle of the missing street names. Just had to look a lot higher than what we were used to. Street names in Brussels (and in many other European cities, as we soon realized) are nailed to the sides of the buildings. Great for pedestrians, not so much for drivers.
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