Greg Wesson's Esoteric Globe

Delicious beer and delicious irony, what more could a man want from a country? Perhaps some decent weather.

I took the Eurostar Chunnel train from London to Brussels. I was actually quite excited about taking the chunnel train, but it was a little disappointing. The ride itself was fine, it was smooth and fast and comfortable. But I was very excited about travelling through that modern marvel that is a tunnel underneath the English channel, but in actuality its just a dark stretch in the train ride, so there isn´t much to see.

I arrived in Brussels to find out that the reason that I had such excellent and sunny weather in London was because the rain and cold had decided to take an August holiday and travel to Brussels. The temperature never really climbed above 20 Celsius, and mostly hovered around the low teens the entire time I was there.

I´ve been to Brussels once before, during my trip from Paris to Hong Kong via train, so I´d already seen a few of the prime sites like the Manneken Pis and the main square. This time I decided to get out and see some of the other sites.

I headed out to the Cantillon Brewery, which is a traditional brewery brewing Lambic beers, which are brewed in traditional style. They brew using natural, spontaneous fermentation to make a flat beer. It tasted to my rather unrefined palate like a mix between a wheat beer (like a hefeweizen) and a very dry Riesling. They also make fruit beers by adding 20% fruit.

The brewery itself wasn´t in operation when I was there. They only brew in the winter, as they need the cold night air to cool the brew and allow the natural yeasts in the air to add to the fermentation process. As well, they don´t use any pesticides, instead opting for the natural pesticide called the spider. Removing cobwebs is not done, as they don´t want to drive the spiders away.

I also went and checked out the European Parliament Buildings. In addition to being the capital of Belgium, Brussels also serves as the primary seat of the European Union´s power. Every year, it seems, more and more of Europe is brought together by this supranational body, with Romania and Bulgary just joining at the start of this year.

Later, while enjoying a plate of moules frites, I was reading some of the rare English language material I had with me - a Belgium tourist magazine that happened to cover some politics.

Belgium is divided into two main regions, Wallonia to the south and Flanders to the north. Wallonia is mainly French speaking, and tends to be poorer than the northern Flemish, who speak mainly Dutch. During election time, of which there was just one, Belgians vote for a party in their region. However, it appears that very few parties cross the boundary between the Flemish and the Wallonians, and a party is identified by it´s language. Most parties don´t even both to run candidates in the other linguistic region. Of course, all this fuels lots of talk of separation of the country into two separate countries, with perhaps Brussels even becoming a modern city-state without a country affiliation.

That´s my delicious irony, that the centre of power for the unifying force of the EU is a country that isn´t really sure it wouldn´t be better off split into parts.

I have arrived at Brussels in Belgium, the first part of my train journey is now under my belt. I started easy, admittedly, taking the Thalys high speed train from Paris to Brussles, which covers a distance of about 300 km in a little under 1 and a half hours.

I took the metro from Brussels Midi station to my hotel, close to the North Station from which I am departing to Moscow. So far, I have yet to ride on anything that doesn't run on rails since arriving at Charles de Gauille Airport in Paris two weeks ago. The RER lines and metros conveyed me around Paris and to the train station, the metro for Brussels and the high speed train in between.

My hotel, the Sabina on Rue du Nord, has all the ambience of a prison cell, but is centrally located. Walking out my hotel and down the block I come across the Rue du Barricades, where something historic happened, so they erected a statue. I am not sure what historic event, I am only in Brussels for a day, I cannot know everything. However, given the name of the plaza, I will guess that barricades were erected. Exactly what they were stopping, I don't know. Perhaps Huns or Visigoths, perhaps German panzer tanks, perhaps drunken English soccer fans moving north from the drinking district into the heart of the financial district? Only the statue at the centre of the square knows for sure, and he ain't talking.

I pop into a pub and have a beer and a croque monsiuer (grilled ham and cheese). The beer costs 1 euro 50 for 250 ml, a great deal compared to the 4 or 5 Euros that would have cost me in France.

Beside me are a couple from Ireland. Three men at the bar are chatting with the couple, joking in spats of French, English and Dutch. Already Brussels trumps Paris, in that people actually talk to each other in bars. But soon enough the couple leaves, and the three locals huddle into a insular group. When it comes to ice breakers for socializing, a fair skinned, long haired red headed Irish lass ( even with a boyfriend ) trumps a splotchy, balding, brown haired Canadian boy.

Overheard at the Manneken Pis, "make it look like he's peeing on my head

The next day (Oct 22nd), I wander around Brussels to see the sites. It's a nice town, a cool mix of new and old, residential, tourist and business existing side by side. I could get to like it, especially if it stopped raining. But it didn't stop raining all day. It's okay though, after seeing the Manneken Pis (the little boy peeing statue), sitting inside by the fire at a bar on the central plaza sipping a Trappist made Orval beer, that's alright too. Cause after all, it's my vacation, right?

* * *

In just under two hours, I board a train to take me to Moscow via Cologne, Warsaw, Brest (Belarus) and Minsk. Not sure I get much time in any place, other than Brest, which is where you clear Belarusian customs and they change the wheels on the train to match the Russian gauge of track, which is a little wider than European tracks.

I've outfitted my self with tea, snacks, instant noodles (heard differing things about the quality of food on the train), a deck of playing cards and lots of books for the up coming days, which consist of basically 6 of the next 8 days on board. Today in the train station I saw a man who kept pointing his lighter at people and flicking it on and off like it was a gun. Obviously off his rocker. That's the kind of thing that spending endless days aboard a train can do to people.

Hopefully, I don't go mad.