Enroute Brugge, Belgium

I boarded the train on platform 1. To my left was the sun rising above the horizon and to my right was the moon, almost the same level. That was my first time to see it that way. I was glad I was leaving Calais. I noticed a few people who would bow their heads immediately once I asked if they could speak English (saying it in French). What’s with this kind of attitude? Part of me struggled accepting the fact that the French are snobs. I’ve met so many French travelers whilst in Canada and in NZ, but I’ve never found them as snobs. Oh well.

I took the train from Calais to Lille Flandres. Then from there I knew I had to get off and transfer to Tournage which took me straight to Brugge.

Getting off Lille Flandres I found myself walking away from the station instead of going to the information booth. I bumped into a lady who was so helpful and even walked me till the escalator just to make sure I knew where I should be. I was able to talk to her with my limited French words, which was good coz at least she tried to comprehend my crooked pronunciation. I wanted to hug her and say thank you, but of course, I just did the latter. I was so happy she was helpful.

I went down the escalator and found my way to the information booth. A guy with a stern face looked at me through the glass as I asked, in my crooked French, what was the next train to Brugge. He rolled his eyes and asked if I spoke English. Talk about snobs. He wrote on a piece of a paper and told me to walk behind the pillars for the tickets.

By 9:09 I was on the train bound for Brugge. At that point I was already dead tired with my lack of sleep. My eyes went off on its own….all the way down till it was all black and I gave in to slumber.

When I opened my eyes the Brugge sign was staring at me through the train window. Oh yes, it did stare at me till the train moved away and the sign was just a haze of letters from the distance. OH NO! …. Hmm….. correction… OH YES, I missed my stop. Oh what fun and glory. I rolled my eyes and hated myself for over sleeping.

We got to the end of the trip, outskirts of Belgium most probably. Wind turbines silently twirled in the background, cows were grazing and the view was all countryside. I got off the train and talked to the conductor explaining I missed my stop. They spoke to me in English. I was surprised. Only then to remind myself that I wasn’t in France anymore. ALLELUIA!!! Happiness.

I was ushered to the next train back to Brugge and was told that I didn’t have to pay for the return. I was so thankful.

I got on the train and made sure I had my eyes open. Red as it could be, I had it all open.