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The Family Difference

December 12, 2008

The weekend before Thanksgiving, in my last outside-of-Spain trip of the semester (Allison still had one more), the two of us traveled to Belgium. Of all the places we could have gone, Belgium probably seems an unlikely choice, especially because I have yet to visit European capitals like London, Paris and Rome. Admittedly, we’d originally planned to go to Germany but had that idea frustrated by lousy flight schedules and pricey tickets. Like so many of our travel choices, Belgium had the right times at the right price, so we took advantage of the opportunity.

Despite the pragmatism of the original decision, Belgium is the trip I’ll remember with the most fondness. What made this trip so special compared to all those I’ve taken over the course of the semester? Instead of staying in a hotel or hostel, we stayed with some relatives of mine. One of my uncles is married to a Belgian woman, and she still has family there. We stayed with her sister Chantal and her sister’s husband Willy. They were absolutely wonderful. Because of them, our time in Belgium was for me the most comfortable and enjoyable trip of the semester.

After spending Friday night in a cocoon of blankets, we woke up Saturday morning to snow—real live snow. Our excitement was almost euphoric. At that point we had no inkling of the amount of snow we’d see before our departure. We got ready quickly and then set out for Brussels with my “cousin”—these familial relationships are complicated!—Philippe and his girlfriend Sylvia. They’d researched different sights before our arrival and procured a map of the city, both of which proved useful, though I have to say the streets of Brussels aren’t near as confusing as those of Dublin or Toledo. It snowed sporadically as we made our way from the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts; to the Grand-Place, Brussels’ version of a Plaza Mayor, which was at that point mid-way through being adorned in Christmas decorations; to the fabled Manneken Pis, that day dressed in what I can only guess was an attempt to ward off the intense cold; to the Cathédrale St-Michel et Ste-Gudule. Perhaps I appear to gloss over what we did in Brussels, but for me the best part of the day was spending it with Philippe and Sylvia; their company and conversation are what I’ll remember most.

In the early afternoon, we boarded another train and continued on to Brugge, reputed to be Belgium’s most romantic city. As far as I could see, this is an accurate description, but it was almost dark when we arrived, so were weren’t able to do much more than admire the Christmas lights, sample some chocolate, and take refuge from the deepening cold and thickening snowfall. Still, even by night Brugge is beautiful, and I hope one day to return and see it by day.

On Sunday, when the entire country seemed blanketed in several inches of white, my other “cousin” Yolanda accompanied us to Tongeren, the oldest city in Belgium, where we saw Roman ruins and the city’s basilica. The cold—even harsher than the day before—forced us to cut short our stay, as even my five layers and multiple pairs of socks couldn’t prevent the numbing of my fingers and toes. After reviving a bit over lunch, the three of us ventured forth again to the Dutch city of Maastricht, where it began to snow in earnest as we explored the shops. For someone used to carrying an umbrella as protection from the rain, it was strange to use it as a shield from the snow. And by then, my enchantment with snow had been tempered somewhat by consciousness of the associated cold. Snow is magical, gentle, cheerful, but requires a brutal chill for its existence. Thus ended my Florida naïveté.

In the evening, fortified with a hot dinner and even more layers, Yolanda took us to a Christmas market in Hasselt. It was a charming set-up, with an ice skating rink, a Ferris wheel, food ranging from Belgian waffles to German sausages, bars serving Belgian beer and brandy (necessary for combating the cold), and vendors selling all manner of Christmas decorations. When we’d had our fill of the market, we walked around Hasselt for a bit before returning to the welcome shelter of Willy and Chantal’s house.

Our time in Belgium brought home to me that often the most important criterion for enjoyment is not what you do but the people with whom you do it. Willy and Chantal, Philippe and Sylvia, Yolanda, and everyone else we met during our stay proved that beyond doubt. Because of them, I would return to Belgium in a heartbeat. Especially after being away from my parents and siblings for so long, spending time with family made all the difference.

Photo 1: The Grand-Place in Brussels
Photo 2: Manneken Pis
Photo 3: Inside the Cathedral in Brussels
Photo 4: Allison and I in documentary evidence of the snow
Photo 5: The basilica in Tongeren
Photo 6: A busy street in Maastricht

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