The time back in Brussels after the show in Namur was good. I did some more wandering, and took a few more pics before I was supposed to hook up with Valentine's (my Brussels friend from Sydney) brother in Waterloo, a Brussels suburb.
Her brother, Kevin, invited me to meet up with him and some of his friends at a pub, and then he promised to show me some good places. Cool, I figured -- nothing like hanging with locals (though I was a little concerned about the distance -- when I googled the bar's location, it was about 25km away from Brussels). Before I headed out, I asked my hotel's receptionist if he knew how to get to Waterloo. He pointed me to the nearest train station and told me that I should take a bus from there. Sounds fairly easy, right??
Well...I make it to the train station, and head to the bus platforms. Hmm -- there were about 36 other buses, but not mine. In fact, the receptionist told me to grab bus "W". The only buses that I found followed a naming convention like, "71," "983," and "112." No lettered buses anywhere. Crap! My search lasted about 40 minutes until I gave up and hailed a taxi.
I showed the taxi driver the address and asked him if he knew how to get there. He nodded and off we went. I guess my definition of "knowing how to get there" includes being able to direct an automobile in the appropriate direction. Imagine that. The cab driver's idea of "knowing how to get there" included punching the address into a GPS device and not getting a hit; pulling out a map and not finding the address; and finally, referencing a third map to no avail. Of course, this was done once we had driven the bulk of the way to Waterloo. I only had the address, so naturally, I was no help. That being said, the cab driver was one hell of a persistent and nice guy -- after we drove around Waterloo for 21 minutes (at no charge), he consulted three random people off the street, and even went into a pub to see if anyone knew how to find the location. Finally, someone came through (it was now over an hour since I had departed Brussels), and gave us good directions.
What I thought would be a bar turned out to be a patio next to an amateur sports complex. I paid my cab driver a whopping 60 Euros for the trip and headed towards the place. Upon entering the place, I faced the daunting task of trying to locate Kevin in a sausage fest of incredibly drunk 22 year olds playing horseshoes and random other crap that drunk 22 year olds do. I stood there watching the action unfold for about 4 minutes before I decided that this wasn't my scene.
Leaving Waterloo, however, turned out to be a bit of a cluster. This "sports complex" was about a 10 minute walk from any sort of civilization. Luckily, I found a neighborhood pub after 30 minutes or so of walking. Asking the staff in the pub for a taxi made me feel like I was from Mars. The staff basically said that getting a cab out there "wasn't possible." They did guide me towards the train station, though. As I made my way to the train station (another 30 minute walk), I encountered, guess what?? A "W" bus stop.
I paid my 4 Euros, jumped on the bus, and in 40 minutes or so, I was back in Brussels, starting on my first of eight Chimays. Ugh. What a disastrous trip. I was irritated with the whole trip, so I didn't even think to take any pics of Waterloo. My bad. However, as I left the pub in Brussels, I did find this. Yes, that's a chick and a bunny in the middle of the sidewalk. WTF??
Her brother, Kevin, invited me to meet up with him and some of his friends at a pub, and then he promised to show me some good places. Cool, I figured -- nothing like hanging with locals (though I was a little concerned about the distance -- when I googled the bar's location, it was about 25km away from Brussels). Before I headed out, I asked my hotel's receptionist if he knew how to get to Waterloo. He pointed me to the nearest train station and told me that I should take a bus from there. Sounds fairly easy, right??
Well...I make it to the train station, and head to the bus platforms. Hmm -- there were about 36 other buses, but not mine. In fact, the receptionist told me to grab bus "W". The only buses that I found followed a naming convention like, "71," "983," and "112." No lettered buses anywhere. Crap! My search lasted about 40 minutes until I gave up and hailed a taxi.
I showed the taxi driver the address and asked him if he knew how to get there. He nodded and off we went. I guess my definition of "knowing how to get there" includes being able to direct an automobile in the appropriate direction. Imagine that. The cab driver's idea of "knowing how to get there" included punching the address into a GPS device and not getting a hit; pulling out a map and not finding the address; and finally, referencing a third map to no avail. Of course, this was done once we had driven the bulk of the way to Waterloo. I only had the address, so naturally, I was no help. That being said, the cab driver was one hell of a persistent and nice guy -- after we drove around Waterloo for 21 minutes (at no charge), he consulted three random people off the street, and even went into a pub to see if anyone knew how to find the location. Finally, someone came through (it was now over an hour since I had departed Brussels), and gave us good directions.
What I thought would be a bar turned out to be a patio next to an amateur sports complex. I paid my cab driver a whopping 60 Euros for the trip and headed towards the place. Upon entering the place, I faced the daunting task of trying to locate Kevin in a sausage fest of incredibly drunk 22 year olds playing horseshoes and random other crap that drunk 22 year olds do. I stood there watching the action unfold for about 4 minutes before I decided that this wasn't my scene.
Leaving Waterloo, however, turned out to be a bit of a cluster. This "sports complex" was about a 10 minute walk from any sort of civilization. Luckily, I found a neighborhood pub after 30 minutes or so of walking. Asking the staff in the pub for a taxi made me feel like I was from Mars. The staff basically said that getting a cab out there "wasn't possible." They did guide me towards the train station, though. As I made my way to the train station (another 30 minute walk), I encountered, guess what?? A "W" bus stop.
I paid my 4 Euros, jumped on the bus, and in 40 minutes or so, I was back in Brussels, starting on my first of eight Chimays. Ugh. What a disastrous trip. I was irritated with the whole trip, so I didn't even think to take any pics of Waterloo. My bad. However, as I left the pub in Brussels, I did find this. Yes, that's a chick and a bunny in the middle of the sidewalk. WTF??
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