Ol' Brighty 1

I can't believe how disorganised I can be. When I booked a flight from Bishkek to Brussels I lazily thought I'd be arriving at the main Brussels airport close to the city centre, and would then just zip over to Bruxelles Central station by metro, so I could meet my daughter Manu as she arrived on her train from Germany.

But there's 2 airports in Brussels, innit.

The one I arrived at is called Bruxelles Charleroi, which is a bloody con, because it's absolutely not Brussels, but a small town about an hour and a half bus ride away.

So, not only were both my flights delayed, but when I finally got to Central I was very very late. Like, hours late.

But Manu was very understanding.

When I saw her for the first time in 18 months however, and, filled with unbridled joy, instinctively burst into song, she immediately disappeared into her book, rather than have anyone in the waiting room even suspect that she had any association with me whatsoever.

I don't blame her.

I stopped singing, and she gingerly acknowledged my presence.

It was so amazing to see each other again.

It was cool as I left Bishkek, at a ridiculous hour.

I met the most amazing Finnish woman on the bus, Sana, she was on her way to Osh, to climb a mountain called Peak Lenin, which towers over 7,000m above the town. 7,000m is very high, in case you didn't know. Everest is about 8,800m. Sana's a mountaineer, and has climbed peaks all over the world. We had a lovely connection, I really hope to visit her in the French Alps, if I ever get there.

Hangin at Bishkek Airport

On the Pegasus Air flight, a Turkish airline.

Heading off from Bishkek

It didn't take long to reach the mountains

Eastern Turkey

Not only did my flight leave late, but it also couldn't land as scheduled at Istanbul's Sabiha Gökçen airport. The captain announced that we'd been redirected to Istanbul's main airport, Atatürk.

My heart sank.

That meant I'd definitely miss my connecting flight, as it was leaving from the originally scheduled airport, and I wouldn't have time to get across Istanbul in time.

I really wasn't sure what to do. Manu would have to stay in Brussels alone, and we'd have to catch up the next day. Major bummer.

But then just before we arrived at the new airport the plane swung around again, and the captain announced that we would, after all, be going to the original airport.

Phew.

I had no way of contacting Manu about my lateness (out of range, no airport wifi when we finally landed), but I knew she'd be tracking my flight on an app she has, as she loves that sort of thing. She even shot her screen so she could show me my convoluted route through the skies above Istanbul.

I haven't had such a convoluted route in ages.

Swinging away from Istanbul's main airport

Close to airport #2

Istanbul's a big city these days, the 15th largest in the world, there's now about 15 million sardines living down there.

I had a pinkel in the tuvaletler

My Brussels flight was delayed too. It was basically a shitshow in that airport shed.

And I didn't get a window seat either.

It was raining when I finally got to Charleroi. Welcome to northern Europe in summer.

I jumped on a bus to a metro station near Central, and a local Brussel Sprout told me if I was sneaky I could jump on an Intercity train to get to Central quickly, even if I didn't have a ticket. He said it was unlikely anyone would check my ticket in that short a distance.

The thing is, when I got to the platform the train was leaving and the automatic doors were closing. But I jumped on anyway, narrowly missing the doors as they slammed shut. Phew!

I got to Central station, but then immediately got pulled up by the station guard, who started angrily gesticulating at me and blabbering off in French.

I said "Je ne parle pas français," (I don't speak French), pretty much the only French I know, so he switched to English without missing an angry syllable, and castigated me profusely for jumping on the train while the doors were closing.

"Don't you ever do that again!", he exclaimed, "those doors could've closed on you, which is very dangerous yada yada yada."

I was very apologetic, which seemed to calm him down completely, and then he almost became apologetic himself.

Strange that.

The good thing was, he'd been so focused on my speedy jumping antics that he completely forgot to check if I had a ticket (which I didn't).

So somehow I had the last haw haw haw.

Coming up to the main concourse in Bruxelles Central.

There were smurfs flying around everywhere. They were originally born in Belgium.

I was so happy to see Manu, and she was so happy to see me too, once she got over my embarrassing singing antics.

Manu about to fly off to our Airbnb.

Manu as happy as a pig in sheet.

Outside Elisabeth metro station. Reminds me of Paris. Especially the billboard thingy.

Dutch is pretty funny, jaa

The Brussels Sacre Coeur. It's actually called that. Paris has one too, as you probably know, and the translation isn't sacred cow, but Sacred Heart.

A missile shot past as we were walking down the street.

At Nestor's house. Nestor is our Belgian Airbnb host, he has a young wife and the cutest little son.

Met A Girl In Brussels

Manu and I choofed off in the morning to get brekky. It was actually a nice day.

Weird-shaped peaches.

Deeeelishus! Pastries and yoghurts and flat peaches.

We walked all the way to the city centre to meet up with a friend, Ester.

Being in Brussels is like living in a French/Dutch dictionary.

Statue outside the Palace of Justice (the main court building in the city).

I met Flemish Ester in Mullumbimby a few years ago. She'd arrived very late on a delayed flight to Coolangatta, and my housemate April had offered her a bed at our place, as it was way too late to find a bed in a hostel.

She's a nomad, like me, and had arrived in Australia after spending a few years living in Capetown, South Africa. We hung out for a few days, and I showed her around the traps.

Ester's a super interesting and really sweet person, she's a lawyer, now working for an NGO based in Brussels, and travelling for work a lot. She was heading to Tanzania later in the week to set up a new office for her NGO in Dar Es Salaam, and actually lives in Barcelona with her boyfriend.

We were super lucky to catch her while she was in Brussels, and super luckier because she's so nice, which I already knew of course. She also bought Manu and I lunch, she's so generous too. It was so lovely and super interesting to see her again, we had so much to talk about.

Smashed avos, eggs and smashing coffee

The stunning Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert, inaugurated in 1847.

Grand Place, one of the true architectural jewels of Europe, is an incredible city square, featuring an amazing eclectic blend of different architectural and artistic styles, particularly Gothic and Baroque.

Many of the stunningly ornate and grand buildings were built in the 1500s, but were destroyed by continuous bombardment by troops loyal to French king Louis XIV in 1695.

Meanies.

But the square, which lay at the heart of medieval Brussels, was completely rebuilt, a huge testament to the enormous wealth and pride of the citizens of the mercantile city at the time.

Magnificent innit.

Ester was so kind to us, she decided not to go back to her office for the afternoon, and worked online from here, looking after our luggage for us.

The Stock Exchange

My kinda street

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