June 29, 2022. Another bad night sleep. This time chocolate was the culprit. After only three hours of sleep, I rolled out of bed at 8:45, went to my favorite cafe in Ghent, and talked to the owner for some time. Levin told me about life in Ghent—working for the Tour de France, managing a cycling team, opening a second shop. His wife’s a barista, which inspired them to open their café. He’s vegan, juggling difficult employees, and dealing with childcare issues—apparently the state has cut back on staff in childcare facilities, which tragically led to the death of a child. He and his wife have been writing letters about it. He also bought a new house, which he hadn’t planned on, but old homes have to meet strict electrical codes in Belgium. Really expensive upgrades. We hugged before I left, and he thanked me for stopping in. He invited me to visit again, and I said I would, next time. It felt heartwarming—this kind of connection inspired me to continue traveling.

I finally got on the road, but traffic was a nightmare. Half of the streets of Brussels were town up as they were redoing the underground trains, and it was utter chaos. Getting into the city center was nearly impossible; traffic crawled, and I was sure I was going to hit a pedestrian or cyclist. Somehow, miraculously, I managed to park near the center. My sights were set on the Brussels City Museum, where I spent the next 3 hours learning about the history of this amazing city. The building itself, La Maison du Roi, is probably the most magnificent work of art. The idea of a local museum was born in 1860, with the city collecting items to exhibit and commissioning several artists to immortalize districts doomed for the wrecking ball. In my opinion the historic core of the city had been ruined by urban renewal. Mayor Charles Buls and Archivist Alphonse Wauters wanted to welcome foreign visitors and make the history of the city more accessible to the local population.

As usual I was on a tight schedule, and no trip to Brussels is complete without viewing the famous MannekenPis. The statue was dwarfed by surrounding buildings, and I could barely get a glimpse of the peeing boy. I had to go GardeRobe MannekenPis, a stone’s throw from the namesake’s fountain. They have 140 outfits for the little statue, all with a hole in the appropriate spot. Wouldn’t want to get the clothes wet. Many are gifts from celebrities, athletes, designer, fashion houses, and charities. There is clothing from all parts of the world, many in the regional dress of a particular ethnic group or folk traditon. It was impressive. I have a walk-in closet full to the brim, but I couldn’t hold a candle to his sartorial collection.

I didn’t want to leave but wanted to see the Botanic Gardens before they closed at 5:30. Due to all the construction work on train tracks and tunnels, the gardens were severely defaced and fragmented, with skyscrapers looming overhead. It felt surreal. I wandered back and forth a few times, then headed toward the Parc de Bruxelles, the grand park belonging to the Royal Palace of Brussels. On the way I checked out Cinquantenaire Park, built to commemorate Belgium’s 50th anniversary of independence, a historical site with monuments, sculptures, and museums. I was intrigued by Count of Egmont, a nobleman who resisted Spanish rule, whose home had been near the park.

Throngs of people were storming the palace grounds—people in costumes, with carts and swords and banners. It seemed like they were preparing for some kind of parade or festival. Then I remembered with horror that there was supposed to be a grand parade starting in an hour. As I crossed the park, I saw more costumed performers walking up the road with banners. I was parked in the city center and realized I might be trapped and unable to get out for hours. I also needed gas.

I asked a policewoman who was barricading a street a block from my car. She said, “You’re stuck.” Yikes. I said “thanks” and started running. She looked at me like I was nuts. Told me I’d be stuck there for three hours. I was panicked—I couldn’t afford to wait that long. I sprinted to my car, jumped in, and navigated like a rat in a maze—detouring, turning around, dodging roadblocks, watching other cars trying to get out and reaching dead ends. I finally found a driver who seemed to know what he was doing. It was a complete miracle—I made it out.

Got back to Ghent around 8:30 and had a nice, calm dinner and chat with Hendrik.

June 30. Today I had to leave my friends. I’d been here 9 days, though I’d been away for 3. I didn’t want to leave, and slept in, taking forever to pack. Hendrik was so kind—he made me three boiled eggs, helped me with my bags, and even gave me an olive wood container and pendant. I was sad to leave.

I finally left at 1 and hit Antwerp around 2:30—more traffic delays. Would’ve been faster, but I missed my exit. Parked, and immediately needed a bathroom. A kind woman at a tea shop near my car let me use theirs—thank god. Then she recommended I go up the MAS museum tower for a panoramic view, so I did. It was cool to look out over the city as I climbed all nine stories. It was a good way to get oriented and see the main sights of the city. I descended and wandered along the port, admiring beautiful old warehouses. And still standing. Something that I rarely see in the western US. It’s one of the reasons I like the east coast.

I made my way to a church Hendrik had recommended fondly—St. Bartholomew. The square outside was lovely. The interior was stunning yet intimate. It was gothic and richly decorated—stunning gilding, carved beams, and altars, probably the most complex I remember seeing. Anne of Saint Bartholomew, a Discalced Carmelite companion of Saint Teresa of Avila, had founded a Carmelite convent here in 1612 and died here in 1626. She was a close companion and aide to Saint Teresa of Avila who died in her arms in 1582. That was significant to me because I have always admired the ecstatic writing of St Teresa.

When I came out, it was pouring. I ran back to my car to grab my umbrella, then visited the city hall and main square, impressive even in the rain. Built in 1561 and designed by de Vriendt and several other architects and artists, the Renaissance building incorporates Flemish and Italian influences. It is listed as one of the Belfries of Belgium and France, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Despite being thoroughly soaked (my feet squished as I walked and my pants clung), I was very happy. Seeing such beautiful architecture made me completely forget how sodden I was. Nearby I discovered the inner courtyard of a beguinage. I sat in the garden, watching the rain fall steadily—so peaceful and beautiful.

I had wanted to see ’s-Hertogenbosch, H. Bosch’s birthplace, and left Antwerp. I arrived at 8 p.m. desperately needing a bathroom. I parked next to the moat of the town’s citadel, a fortress built in 1637. After walking around the citadel, I found a movie theater that let me do my business. I wandered through lovely historic streets and stumbled upon a hidden wood behind the cathedral.

I found a synagogue-turned-arts-center dedicated to Bosch’s work, with fantastical creatures in the waterways inspired by his paintings. At 8:59pm, I rushed into a closing library to use the bathroom. When I came out I couldn’t my phone and panicked. Someone told me to ask a man with a plastic bag. I froze, thinking maybe it had been stolen, and approached him asking if he’d seen it. He asked whether I thought he had it. I was basically accusing him of stealing it. Just then I found it in my bag. I apologized profusely, and the library staff gave me thumbs up. I saw my own prejudice, and that of the Dutch library staff, in suspecting an immigrant (he looked Turkish). Nevertheless, it was a major relief—I had no idea how I’d find Roel and Coosje’s place in Eibergen without it.

I wandered toward the market square, attracted by the gorgeous buildings lit up like Christmas trees. I loved the backstreets and the huge trees full of birds chattering in the dusk—it seemed they were having a major convention. I finally left at 10:15 p.m. and arrived at my friends’ home in Eibergen at 11:45.