Holland is as flat as everyone says it is and I started to get sleepy on the train to Brussels, which fortunately didn’t take long. I tried to follow the way using my new print of an old map by a guy named Abraham Ortelius. The original map was made in the 16th century. My country didn't exist for another 3 centuries after that! Well, it did exists of course, the land and tres and everything, but it wasn't a country as such, nor was there anyone who was in any position to make a map of it. This blows my mind.
Niki and I found a cheap place that was really clean with two bunk beds, two chairs, two cupboards and two sinks. We were exhausted and Niki had a nap. I tried to nap, but I’m not much good at it. I've never been able to nap. I either sleep for 6 hours minimum or else wake up all groggy and grumpy, and anything less than an hour and my mind is just whirling with what I could be doing instead. I was tired, though. It's amazing how just sitting on a train tires you out. Well, your body anyway. I sat up in bed and read all about Brussels and Belgium in the guidebook. I’m glad I brought my pocket atlas of Europe even though it’s bulky. I couldn’t imagine travelling without a map showing you where everything is. It’s not just that I have to see where we are, but where we are in relation to other places. And then it's fun to look at an ancient map like my Ortelius one and see how it's all changed since then.
When Niki woke up she decided we were both hungry, and I agreed with her. So we went out to find ‘moules frites’, which I had read was the national dish of Belgium. We got a big bowl of mussels and a mountain of French fries. I guess the translation for ‘frites’ would be just ‘fries’ and that makes sense. Calling part of the Belgian national dish ‘French’ would not be right. Niki asked for a spinach salad, but told the waiter she hated vinegar. When the salad came it was glistening and she looked alarmed, but the waiter hastened to assure her “Don’t worry, that is not vinegar making it shine, it is the bacon fat.” Well, having a salad that has so much bacon fat on it that it glistens would worry me more than a bit of vinegar, but then I am not on a diet of any kind, so asked for vinegar for my ‘frites’. The waiter looked at me as if he didn’t understand. Then it was obvious he did understand, but didn’t believe it. When he realized I was in earnest, he stayed by our table and watched with open-mouthed horror as I poured vinegar on the ‘frites’ and proceeded to eat them quite happily. My guess is that’s not commonly done in Belgium.
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