Brussels: Grand-Place (Arrivée)

Featured Photo: “Arrival…Welcome to Europe”  Brussels, Belgium—2007

HOW WE GOT HERE: In my initial Yosemite blog post, which detailed the trip I took with my eldest sister to Yosemite National Park in California, I included a preface that began:

I originally planned to write my inaugural post—the first post after my introductory series, that is—with the story of my earliest trip overseas for work, which took me to Brussels, Belgium and Strasbourg, France.

But when I wrote my 30th Yosemite post more than six months later, I felt a change in direction was due…literally and figuratively.

Before retiring, my job had provided the opportunity to explore the world, fueling my passion for photography and inspiring me to begin blogging. I always traveled with a camera hanging from my neck or an iPhone tucked into my pants pocket. I looked wide-eyed at all I saw, then paused to look again, refocusing my gaze through the eye of my camera. I documented my travels in a way that now allows me to retrace my footsteps and tell the story, not only of where I went, but what I saw, smelled, and tasted, and even the emotions I felt at the time.

So today—as I wrap up a two-month-long hiatus “to re-imagine how I’m doing this blogging thing”—I will finally tell the story of my first journey abroad for work.

AND AWAY WE GO: In one of my introductory posts, I started to describe my initiation to international business travel:

My very first business trip overseas for Compendial Affairs was in 2007—to meet with the European Pharmacopoeia at their headquarters in Strasbourg, France. I traveled first to Brussels, Belgium and was so excited to land at the airport that my first photo was the sign welcoming me to “Belgium…The heart of Europe,” as I walked toward the main terminal.

And now, let me continue the story. As I walked along the airport hallway with my fellow travelers, I was tired but happy, and scarcely able to believe my good fortune. Wrapped around one of the columns lining the path to the main terminal, a sign declared, “Brussels Airport—Welcome to Europe;” I captured the image: today’s Featured Photo. For me, it was not just arriving in Brussels, or Belgium, or even Europe, it was quite literally my entrée into a new world of experiences, made possible by the international travel that was part of my job responsibilities.

I had taken an overnight flight from Philadelphia, arriving in the wee-small hours US time, but was abruptly thrust into the hustle and bustle of Brussels’ mid-morning. The narrow hallway opened into a large room with a throng of arriving passengers waiting to show their passports at Border Control and be granted entry. The year 2007 was before the digital border transformation, so I entered the cavernous space and stood at a tall table trying to fill out my “Landing Card”, struggling to recall my flight number, and pondering what the two-letter designation might be for my airline “Vessel.”

Card in hand, I took my place at the end of the “Non-EU Passports” line, envious of those able to queue in the much shorter and quicker “EU Passports” line. I shuffled along with the other non-Europeans and was finally waved forward to a Border Guard seated behind a glass window at an imposing desk. I felt intimidated as I approached this authority figure and said—as cheerfully as I could—“Bonjour,” then added “Good morning”, to disavow any notion that I could actually speak French. I handed over my passport and the Landing Card, which he studied for a moment, then he spoke.

In my groggy state, I struggled to answer his simple questions, “What brings you to Belgium?” and “How long is your stay?” I must have muttered a reasonable response as he returned my passport and gestured me to pass through to retrieve my checked luggage. I then faced a decision: whether to head toward the green or the red lane for “Customs”. Being cautious and usure whether I had anything to “Declare,” I chose incorrectly, waiting in the red lane a few minutes until the sympathetic agent confirmed that indeed, I did not have any forbidden goods stashed in my suitcase.

Somewhat humbled by my European experience thus far, I emerged into the noise and excitement of the Brussels airport main entry hall, where families and friends waited for their special passenger to push through the door. There were also dozens of men and women, sharply dressed with caps, coats, and ties, holding signs with names; these were the drivers who would take the “VIPs” on to their next destination. I smiled knowing I was not a VIP and there was no one to meet me at the airport (although years later—on trips to Japan, India, and China—I would be lucky enough to have a driver to help in navigating the foreign-ness of these enigmatic countries).

I made my way to the elevators and rode down to Level 0, where I found lockers to store my luggage for a few hours. Temporarily relieved of that burden, I took the escalator another level down—to Level –1—and bought a train ticket to take me from the airport in the suburb of Zaventem, into the heart of Brussels. Fifteen minutes later, the train paused at the city’s Gare du Nord (in French) or Noord (in Dutch)—the North Station…

…but I needed to travel one more stop to Gare Central, which put me closer to the historic city center and my sight-seeing goal: the Grand-Place. I got off the train and followed the crowd upstairs into the pleasantly adorned Central Train Station…

…designed in 1912 by the famed Art Nouveau architect, Victor Horta. But the station was not completed until 1952 due to construction delays caused by both World Wars. I continued into the busy main hall, with ticket booths and boards showing the schedule of train arrivals and departures…

…finally exiting the station to set foot upon Brussels proper.

In preparing for my trip, I had purchased the DK Eyewitness Travel book that described the Top 10 sights to see in the four great cities of northern Belgium: Brussels, Bruges, Antwerp, and Ghent.

I would later have the opportunity to visit the amazing trio of smaller cities, but my first trip carried me only to Brussels—the largest city in Belgium—known as the Capital of Europe. The travel book included a detailed map of Central Brussels…

…but the flat, 2-D representation of the city’s center did not prepare me for the real-world, 3-D labyrinth of narrow, curved streets—with names posted only in French and Flemish—intersecting at all angles other than 90°, bordered by a mosaic of buildings, old and new, which rose all around me, blocking the view everywhere I gazed.

(To be continued…)